This was the upshot of a conversation I had with another runner at the Philadelphia marathon a few weeks ago. We were a mile from the finish of the 1/2 marathon and walk-running our way to the slowest finish imaginable. I was feeling great, having squeezed every ounce of enthusiasm and cheer from an awesome morning on the course of a race for which I had not trained. She (I don't know her name) was feeling miserable because she was struck with IT band pain around mile 7.She told me she lived close to the course and actually went home (near mile 9) and called it a day. And then after feeling sorry for herself and moping on the couch she decided, screw it! I'll walk if I have to!
She was still in the mopes when we met, because it wasn't the finish she had planned for. I thought it was kind of awesome -- she engineered her own redemption story, and had to fight the temptation of her own comfy living room to do it.
Since Thanksgiving (ok, it's only been a week...) I have been putting in slow, steady, not overly ambitious but just-right miles. And I have also been reading incredible stories of runners who have endured tremendous life-threatening tragedy, and emerged intact. Stories that put a laugh track under my own excuses and my Philly friend's frustration. And though I have thought this more than a few times, I'm ready to say my next marathon will be my best -- in time, spirit, training, cheer and fulfillment. VCM 2013, my fifth marathon, and the race's 25th anniversary.
Heading out now to run a few miles.
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