I will give you a play-by-play account of Europe soon enough, but first… I am desperate for some serious running love.
This afternoon, I received a frantic phone call from TR.
TR: Did you run in Europe? What was your longest run? How is your knee? Did it hurt? I’ve been thinking about you. We’ve got 10 days, and I want you to maximize your time on your feet. You need to go to the gym after work and bike for 20 minutes and then go out and run 10 miles tonight.
Lou: That’s not going to happen.
TR: OK. Well, get out tonight and run as far as you can. Then run tomorrow. Thursday we’ll train. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to run that marathon, and it’s going to be a great experience for you no matter what happens. We’ll work on speed for next year’s marathon. And of course, we’ll find another half for you to do this winter.
Lou: TR. Calm the fuck down. (OK I didn’t actually tell him to “Calm the fuck down," but I wanted to) I already planned to run tonight, tomorrow, Friday, six miles on Saturday, and a 5K on Sunday.
TR: Give yourself a day off in there. And call me if you need me before Thursday.
Lou: TR, it’s Tuesday at 4. I can probably make it 48 hours without needing your assistance.
So, I skipped Euchre… I skipped football practice… I invoked “jet lag” and I went for a run. I met Meg; we ran for 33 minutes; I dropped her off at home, and I went on for another 40 alone.
When I finally stopped – at the grocery store (I needed spray butter… yes… spray butter) – I wondered why I hadn’t kept going, but it was getting dark, and late, and… well, that’s really it.
During my European vacation, I traveled with a group of about 40 people. Because we rode on a bus for hours on end and obviously had nothing better to do, the tour manager asked that each of us introduce ourselves with some basic information and “fun facts.”
The question: What are you doing after the tour is over?
My answer: I’m running a marathon. My first.
I waited for applause. I waited for ohhs and awes. I waited for facial expressions that said, “Wow you one mother f-ing bad ass.”
Perhaps, my new friends, you have failed to recognize my awesomeness.
They didn’t get it. And, I’m not used to being around people who don’t get it. My life in Chicago has a tendency to revolve around my life as a runner, training, the Marathon, working out, and talking about it. It’s what I do. It’s what I love. And, as such, I have managed to surround myself with people who understand -- people who are “into” running on some level.
It was kind of weird. When I ran in France (I managed two 3-mile runs, one in Nice, one in Chamonix) and mentioned that I had been out running, no one asked how it went or seemed at all interested in the fact that HELLO, I am training for a marathon and I am on vacation and I am running!
OK. So maybe it’s a little too much to expect the whole world to be all about the run.
Anyway, it was nice to get back to my training schedule.