Last night I felt sick to my stomach.
I was silent. This doesn’t often happen.
My husband asked me over and over again what was wrong.
You are deep in thought about something. Tell me.
*you could get used to me being silent right?*
The reality was nothing was wrong – but my mind was a mess.
Why do I put this intense pressure on myself when it comes to the marathon distance? Why do I run them for speed [a relative term to the individual] – always trying to improve on my time?
I can not even count the amount of times I have told myself I could die happy once I had a certain time.
If you beat Oprah’s marathon time you will be happy.
If you beat P. Diddy’s marathon time you will be happy.
If you go under 4 you will be happy.
If you qualify for Boston you will be happy.
If you go under 3:30 you will be happy.
If you win a marathon you will be happy.
If you run under 3:20 you will be happy.
If you run under 3:15 you will be happy.
And now…..IF you run under 3:10 you will be happy.
It gets harder and harder each year to knock off chunks of time in the marathon distance.
I run for time because it only seems logical to me. I find out who I am and what I am made of when I push myself faster than I dream possible.
But those DREAMS come at a price – a price paid for with countless hours and endless miles. All of which I love.
Those DREAMS are also paid for with nerves and those I do not love.
Last night I went to bed telling myself that I no longer cared about a fast marathon and don’t know why I even bother trying to get faster each year. What a waste of time.
This morning my alarm went off and I didn’t want to run. Why run – I mean who am I kidding? Myself was the answer.
I hit snooze and thought of the different ways I could get in a run later.
I could…..get both boys ready and push them on a stroller run after I get Chloe on the bus. Then I told myself that you don’t want to push a double stroller full of boys and snacks when you are tapering for a marathon. I told myself I could wait till I dropped Miles off at preschool after lunch and push Colton for a run in the single. I told myself I wouldn’t do it – I would come up with a reason as to why I should just run when Eric gets home from work. I knew inside that I wouldn’t be motivated enough to run when Eric got home from work so I begrudgingly got up and dressed.
I stepped outside and didn’t click my garmin on.
I ran garmin-less for the first time in a VERY long time.
I wanted to feel good about the run and didn’t want that feeling to be tied to how fast or slow I was running.
6 glorious miles later my nerves are gone. If only for the day.
I run marathons because I love them.
I run marathons because they teach me.
I run marathons because with out them I don’t know who I am.
I run marathons because when I run for 26.2 miles I find myself.
Am I happier now than I was when I first started running marathons? YES. That isn’t however because the time on the clock has gotten faster. Those races miles and all the miles in between have molded and shaped my personality and my life.
Turns out I’m not kidding anyone. I AM A RUNNER.
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