I think I’m just too far past that terrible 11 mile run to go into specific details. The pain is fading, and I’m left with the memory that I didn’t quit. I walked a lot, but I completed all 11 miles. I remember talking about how painful it was, and thinking I never want to do that again, but it mostly just feels good now. Maybe this is how you feel after giving birth? Um. OK. Probably not… That said, I’m not proud that one bad run had me questioning whether I’d actually be able to go through with this. Maybe it’s not the physical challenges of this process that I should be worrying about? Maybe I should take a long, hard look at my mental stamina. It helped that Lumpy and Sally assured me that both the pain, and my reaction to it, were normal. It helps that my 12 miler this past weekend was manageable. Actually, the 12 miler was pretty great. I wouldn’t say fun, exactly, I was certainly hurting for a good portion of it. But it was my 31st birthday, a completely gorgeous morning, and the sense of accomplishment I felt as I touched the trash can that marked the end of the run was something I’ve never felt before. I can actually run 12 miles. Amazing.
I’ll know that I’ll probably have more runs like the 11 than the 12, but each time I go out the possibility of the magic run exists. I just need to do a better job remembering it during the bad runs. And I need to do a better job of relaxing, learning from the bad and enjoying the good. Never again will it be a process of firsts. I don’t want to miss a second of it.
