I remember the first time I wrote about tapering. I didn't actually write about the taper. I just wrote about how I missed drinking.
Gawd. That was so long ago. So much time and so many miles.
But nevermind that. This is about today.
Or rather, yesterday.
Hell, let's make it about the past week.
Last week, for those of you who still care, I was in the Boston-area. Not Boston, which would have been a lot cooler, but the Boston area. In and/or around Boston. Whatever. I was in Danvers.
Danvers was quite lovely. At least it was that one day (was it Tuesday?) when I told my coworkers I was going for the run in the middle of the afternoon on an absolutely perfect day. I ran up two hills. Big hills. Real hills. The kind of hills you don't see in Chicago.
Two hills. Fifty minutes of running. Two days after my 20 miles. It was fantastic. It's days like that when we can remember why we started in the first place.
Lou... consider yourself recovered.
I gotta tell ya... mostly because I'm rambling and have no real direction for this post, that 20 mile run was tough. I think what people sometimes fail to realize is that during these hard fought long runs it's possible to get into an ugly place. A place of self-doubt, of negative self talk, a place where I decide that "they" are talking about me when "they" talk about people who shouldn't be running the marathon.
Ha! Running. That's a laugh. It sure was for the asshat who passed me around mile 12 on his bike and shouted to his friend, "I don't know how they consider this running a marathon."
It was me. He's talking about me. Slow, fat, whatever. I'm in no shape to be doing this. I wallowed for a few miles more.
Then I pulled it together and ran to a finish line that was 5 or so miles away.
On Tuesday, during that beautiful run, I realized that maybe sometimes one shouldn't always judge herself based on the run (or the run/walk), but rather the ability to run after the fact... up a gigantic hill for instance... with only one day of rest after her longest run ever. Perhaps recovery time is a better measure for readiness.
I let that sink in, and I decided I was ready.
So I ran in Danvers.
And then... nothing. Business travel is not conducive to getting shit done... runs or otherwise. I came home and, exhausted, I skipped my 12 mile run on the weekend.
Today, when MM and I got home from the car dealership (holy crap I bought a car!), I said I was too busy/tired/hungry to run. He said, "Are you sure you're going to ready for the marathon?" I was furious. Like, get off my case man, I've had a tough day, a tough week, a tough year, a tough life... all perfectly good reasons to slack... for... ever...
After a brief argument fueled by PMS and... PMS... I laced up my shoes, and we headed to the park for a 45 minute run on a cool night in Chicago.