Maine Half Tomorrow – Dedicated Miles

 

 I have a cold. I ran this half marathon with a cold last year, too. It’s that time of year; the kids are bringing home school germs, I’m tired from back to school and two September birthdays in the family. Succumbing to one of the many cold viruses floating around seems inevitable the first week of October. (This is usually followed by six weeks of perfect health and another crash just in time for my hometown’s post-Thanksgiving 5k.)

Greg thinks I should run. This worries me because if he gets me to start the race I will make myself finish it and there’s no telling what happens in the middle.

Part of me is tired of showing up at start lines knowing I’ll finish but not expecting a PR or even a pleasant race. This is going to be less pleasant AND slower than usual. Great!

It’s been so long since a run has gone unexpectedly well. That’s a mental challenge.

But I don’t like the idea of only running races in perfect condition with perfect weather. That’s not real; that’s not life. Running doesn’t mean only running when everything lines up perfectly. Sometimes it means showing yourself you’re strong enough to start and finish even though conditions aren’t what you hoped for. (Disclaimer: I’m not telling you to do this. You talk to your doctor.)

I’m not so sick I can’t run. I can start this and I can finish it and I can be a 6 time half marathon finisher, and I’ll feel better (emotionally, not physically) than if I’d skipped the race. 

But I know mentally that I need a PR in some distance soon, before I lose hope. My half marathon training has had me running some high mileage weeks. Running higher mileage than ever has me more tired and running slower than ever. I feel like a prolific jogger. I want to run fewer miles per week, run them faster, and am losing hope that I’ll ever get there.

If my running life is a trilogy, I am in the darkness that is always book 2.

I need to keep going and make it to the triumph of book 3.

So tomorrow I run. 

Or jog.

Prolifically. 

13.1 miles. (It’s always like 13.25, this one.)

It’s not going to be all the fun I had once dreamed, so I’m going to use a motivation trick I’ve heard of and think of someone each mile. Each time the watch beeps, I’ll take a moment to think of that person and how they inspire me to keep going to the best of my ability.

My 13.1 miles – dedicated

1. Uncle Rocket. My double jogging stroller used to be his. 

2. Paul – his half marathon this weekend got cancelled because of weather concerns. Mine didn’t. Time to be grateful and run.

3. Bill – “Settle in, Kel, settle in!”

4. Kelly – the one from 3 years ago who was so excited to be able to run a 5k. She’s in there somewhere screaming “Wait!!! We’re done! We did it!!! TURN AROUND!” Hang in there Kel, this isn’t a 10k either.

5. Mair – we are crazy but sane but crazy right? What are we doing?! Thanks for your emails. You get it.

6. Dana – who once scrawled a quotation from my blog on her hand for motivation before a race. Running connects us, it makes us believe in ourselves because we’ve seen what each other can do.

7. Dad – who after a 7 miler I did in Grand Cayman on vacation reflected that it was pretty cool to be able to run 7 miles. That made me feel pretty cool.

8. Will and Andrew – who I want to see over and over again that I continue to finish even though I will never win.

9. Amy – keeps running even though it’s not easy, just like I’m going to right now.

10. Tony – this is the mile I lost him at Chilly last year. Keep going. Speed up. Be better than before.

11. Alison – she’s running a marathon. I can do half that. Let’s go. Almost there. She did training runs longer than this whole race.

12. Ted, who ran me in at the end of the last Chilly Half Marathon and kept me going.

13.1 Greg. I think the last mile is always for Greg. Symbolically, and literally, since he is always there waiting for me at the finish. If I didn’t know he was there waiting for me, I think I might let them keep the necklace and hitch a ride at mile 11.

I mean really. No one even wears the necklace.

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1 comment

  1. I’m honored to be in your mile 5 thoughts.

    Yup – sane, but crazy (aka half crazy). I do get it. : )

    I hope you have a great race. I know you’ll find your silver linings. I’ll be thinking of you too.

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