Mud, Sweat, and Tears

Last week greeted us with 5 inches of snow on Wednesday and Thursday, followed by 67 degrees on Saturday and Sunday.  Only in Northern Virginia...  That being said, it made for a record weekend of running where I logged 12.4 miles for the weekend.  And although 3.4 of them were a muddy mess, 9 of them were flawless.

Saturday was one of those days what will live on in my mind forever.  It's said that there are moments in life that define us- that are so profound that they almost stop time and everything from that point on has new definition.  I had said before that somewhere around mile 5, I became a runner.

I was wrong.  Last Saturday, as I caught a glimpse of mile 9, I became a runner- in my heart, in my soul, in my bones.

Now, its one thing to say you're a runner...but to really BE one...that is truly different.  I'm finding it's a practice much like yoga that requires so much more than body.  It takes a certain conviction within yourself.  I've always wanted to BE a runner, but the voice inside me would taunt me with insecurities.  "Your lungs are going to quit on you; you'll gasp for air.... just who do you think you are, crazy girl??  AND you want to run a half marathon? Are you nuts??"  And I believed that voice.  I believed that 13.1 was a far off dream.  When I registered for the half marathon in May, it was a fleeting thought that I'd actually make it.  Sure, I'd give it my best, but honestly, I wasn't going to be surprised if I didn't make it all the way.  I'd take pride in working towards the goal, but secretly kept in my mind that I'd never make it.  The voice in my head had me convinced, and I believed it...Until Saturday.

Because on Saturday, I ran 9 miles.  Further than I had ever run in my life, and at a decent pace of  just over 9 minutes per mile.  And strangely, that voice in my head died out at mile 7 and became replaced.  Replaced by what?  SILENCE.  And in that silence, turning the loop of mile 8 and charging onward to mile 9, I became someone new; someone unstoppable.  In that silence, I could feel the run in every fiber of my being, every pound of my chest, and every slap of my shoes.  It was just me and the pavement.

It was a feeling that was so freeing and new, that even now, the tears stream down my cheeks as I recall the final strides to mile 9.  I didn't fully realize it at the time.  I thought my tears were simply pride in a new milestone.  And in a sense, they were... they still are.  But the size of that milestone is more than a number.  It's the breaking point of a barrier that I had created for myself so long ago.  It's the realization and acknowledgement of a power within me that I didn't know was there.  And it was at that moment that I recalled the last words my mother spoke to me:

"You can be anything."

I hope she's smiling at my reply today.
Mummy, I am a runner.

Half crazy, and fully committed,
Jenny

A difficult 7, but 7 none the less

Sometimes things sound like such a good idea in my head. And sometimes when those things take shape, you realize how unwise of a choice that really was.

Today's unwise choice?? Taking my sweet husband with me on today's run. I know, that sounds terrible, and I love him dearly, I do... And I'm glad we had that time together this morning. But here's the thing- as a runner, he is far faster than I. Lets call it the 7 inch advantage that he has over me. It's impossible for me to keep at his pace on a healthy day!

And today, was not the healthiest- you see, last night on my run I had an attack and had to stop after mile 2. I'm talking full on, can't catch my breathe, really hot... Attack. In retrospect, I was coughing a ton yesterday, and I hadn't had my usual amount if water. Dumb move to attempt a run. Lesson learned.

Anyway, we set out today to destinations far and wide... And uphill for a mile (idiot!!) for our 7 mile run. (Shh- I told Kevin it was 5 so he'd come.) I started off keeping pace with Kevin and feeling really great. 9:30 am, out on a run with my love, so ready to crush this. And then we hit mile 2 and that blasted hill... And Kevin took off and I realized, oh shoot- I am tired because I've been keeping up with this gazelle. Not good, friends, not good. So I slow, and bless his heart, he asks me what's wrong. Nothing- except I'm not 5'10". I'm 5'3" and trying to keep up!! Duh. My own fault. After that, I started to go more of my own pace, and that helped... But my mojo was already out of sync. I jogged, I walked, I jogged some more... I hacked my lung up- only a tiny bit, an then I jogged some more. I'm sure I didn't look nearly as athletic as I had hoped. Visions of Forrest Gump flooded my mind. But still, I turned that bend, and like the tortoise today, I kept going.

Not my strongest, but still - 7 is 7, and that in itself is something. And, as it turns out, thanks to gazelle boy... It was my fastest 7 to date. 7 miles in 49 minutes... Say what?! Still- I'd prefer not to die. I have time to work to his pace.

Moral of the story??
Go at your happy pace.

Half crazy- and hey, half way there!
Jenny