A few of you have been with me since the beginning when I started A View from the Park with the sole mission of documenting my half marathon training. For three or four months, I wrote almost exclusively about running and the agony of waking up on Saturdays—week after week for the duration of summer 2006—at 6am to hit the lakefront path with the lil’ CES group that could, the "4/2s" (run four minutes, walk two minutes, run four minutes, walk two minutes). It’s harder than it sounds.
I was green, a newbie, a running neophyte who didn’t know if she could make it around the corner, nevermind 13.1 miles jogging, walking, skipping, limping, crawling, or rolling. Well, maybe rolling... down a hill.
But in the end, on a perfectly cloudless summer day, the temperature reached the mid-eighties, and I—muscles cramped, nauseous, feet bleeding, drenched in sweat, and dehydrated—crossed the finish line. Run four minutes, walk two minutes, run four minutes, walk two minutes for two hours, 50 minutes, and two seconds. It’s harder than it sounds. And then I went out to brunch and ate my face off.
‘Cause that’s what you do when you run far... you eat your face off. It's like... the law.
And now it’s hard to imagine what my summer would be like without being able to smugly declare on Saturdays at 10am, “I’ve already run 12 miles today, what the hell have you done?” I’m totally kidding. I only ever said that to my ex-boyfriend. And he loved it. I can’t imagine why we aren’t still together...
A final decision is imminent.