But anyway, this year I also KNOW how long 11 miles really is, and what it feels like it is. So at mile 3, my evil brain starts discouraging me. But I kept on going, slowly but surely. I am much more of a tortoise than any various of hare.
Honestly, by the end of mile 8, I felt like I had been running a tough mudder. First Landing State Park's main trail has been muddier than anything the past several weeks. And today was no exception. Especially with a distance series race in the park, and speedy runners passing me constantly, kicking back mud and muck in their wake. At least I have the muddy clothes to prove I ran 11!
Last year, during my first attempt at running 10 miles, which happened to be in a cold January downpour, I got so frustrated and angry and... you can read this snippet from my Team in Training fundraising site from last year:
"Saturday as I was running in the pouring rain, with four miles left to go, I tried my best to keep a positive attitude. (The rain falling on cypress marshes was lovely, after all.) But I still cursed the weatherman for his inaccurate reporting, and the rain for picking the “wrong day.” But then the thought “This weather may suck, but CANCER STILL SUCKS MORE!!” popped into my head. I used that notion to propel me onward and to keep the true goal in sight.
As I continued to run with my iPod on, an acoustic cover of “Hey Ya” by Outkast came on, and I immediately thought of a time in college when friends from home came to visit. We danced and sang “Hey Ya” (we may have acquired a traffic cone) in our college living room, and it is one of my greatest memories from that time. It is made even more special because it involved my friend Nathan who lost his battle to cancer several years ago. The more I listened, the more overcome with emotion I became.
“Why isn’t Nathan still here? Why did my friend lose her father? Why didn’t I get to know Nick better? Why do two other loved ones have to go through chemo right now? Why does cancer have to exist?! Cancer, why won’t you leave people I care about alone?! Just leave us all alone!!”
Before I knew it, I was running as fast as I could, crying uncontrollably. The more I cried, the angrier I got, and the faster I ran. I enjoyed splashing and stomping through puddles, imaging cancer was being destroyed with each step! The more it rained, the less I could see, the fast I went, and the angrier I got. I’ve never run two miles with such intention in all my life."
Today I again experience a similar rush of emotions, but on a crystal clear and warm (for February) morning. I was approaching the end of mile 10, and I couldn't take it anymore. I thought about people I know that have passed away recently and suddenly. I thought about people running and training with Team in Training, some of whom are still battling, or have recently battled cancer. Some of us just want to kick cancer's ass a little harder with every step we take.
I don't know if it has simply to do with WHY I am running these half marathons that I get so emotional. I don't know if it has to do with a rush of adrenaline at the end of a long run. I wonder if anyone else has had such emotional training sessions? I definitely use all of my training sessions (especially these long runs) for a sort of personal therapy session within my own brain. Maybe just all of my realizations just hit me hard in the face sometimes.
Either way, I do appreciate the rush of emotions when I get to the end of my run. I love the sense of accomplishment, and the incredibly calm feeling I have, even though I'm usually in a decent amount of pain at some point on my body. I love high-fiving Coach Bob, the best running coach and mentor a girl could ever ask for when I get back to start. In my mind, there is yellow finish line tape, and I just busted the hell out of it!
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