I’ve run more this year than I ever have. Not just in any year, probably all the years
combined. And maybe double that. But the weird thing, it doesn’t seem that
weird. I honestly wonder what I did with
my life when I wasn’t running through it. How on earth did I pick my next trip,
if it wasn’t because of the next race I’d be running. What a sad little life I
must have had!
People ask me all the time why I run so much, or when I’ll
take a break, or how do I get up every Saturday or squeeze in evening runs when
I’m busy. The truth is, there are some hardcore, dedicated, super runners out
there – and I’m just not one of them. I do run. I do run a long run every
Saturday. Except for the Saturdays that I don’t. I run hill runs and I run
tempo runs, except for when I don’t. Sometimes I opt to stay in. Sometimes I
opt for 3 miles instead of 5, or 7 instead of 9, or 14 instead of 18. But, more
often than not, lately, I get out there.
Along the way this year I’ve learned some things about
myself and running. I am not a short distance runner. I hate three miles.
Sometimes I hate five. Sometimes it takes me 40 minutes to really find my
groove. Sometimes I don’t find it. But I will never settle in and feel
satisfied or happy with a short run. Those will leave me feeling uncoordinated,
tired, and on the edge of inury. I am at my best when I’m out there for the
long haul. Knowing this has made those
short runs easier to handle.
I’ve learned that I need to drink more water. As I type this
my water bottle sits by my desk, half full from the only time I filled it today
– so I’m going to get up, finish it on the way to refill it. I need to drink more water. A lot more.
Always.
I also need to eat better. When I have a week where I’ve had
time to carefully think out my meals, or say, have meals, my runs are so much
better. Same with sleep. When I’ve slept,
my runs are better. Understanding these things has made the bad runs easier. I
am not a bad runner – I am a bad water-drinker, eater, and sleeper. Somehow, I
have an easier time accepting those flaws in myself.
As with other aspects of my life, there is a race-day
routine, and I find comfort in it. I wake up at least an hour before I have to
leave the house. There are a variety of preventative type meds that are
consumed, water, dog walk (if I have her with me), peanut butter, banana. My
favorite socks (and I only have one pair of these), and I generally have a
preference for running shirt. I have my water belt, and tiny bottles of frozen
water. I have my jelly beans, and shot blocks, and power bar chews. I have my
phone, and my headphones, and my hat (that’s new this year, but it stays). I
affix my running number to my right upper leg. If I have a shoe tag, that goes
on the left shoe. I have three bobby pins. But, what I’ve learned this year is,
I don’t need three bobby pins, or my favorite socks, or that running
shirt. I remember a run in Austin where I got down to Town Lake for 8 miles,
and realized I didn’t have my watch. And I went home. It wasn’t an excuse,
really, I really did not think I could run without my watch. And while, I’d
still prefer to know my times and paces, I think I could stick it out without
much panic. I could manage with a new pair of socks, or luke warm water. I
could do this having been up for only 30 minutes prior to leaving, or with
chunky peanut butter and not creamy. (I’m not sure I could do it with my race
number pinned anywhere but my right leg, although I’m now looking at pictures
where my race number was pinned to my shirt and I don’t seem to be hyperventilating,
so maybe even that’s possible). This year, I’ve learned to be more flexible.
And more forgiving. Each day is different, each run is different, and I’m not
out here to rule the world. I just like running.
So, in my mind, Savannah is like a final exam of sorts.
Where I can prove to myself that I am a better person. And I can get out of my head and enjoy a run. My body can take my mind
along for a ride, and run a marathon that even a turtle would be proud to be a
part of. And, for the love of god, if I rip open a chocolate milk container and
spill it all over myself after crossing the finish line, this time I will simply
ask for another instead of bursting in to tears!
Bring it, Savannah! No one’s nervous!
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