Beginning of week 4: the Marathon Diaries.

Twenty-six point two miles never felt farther to me.  Currently in the training schedule, I don’t run close to that much in a WEEK.  Let alone one, single, run.  Holy cow, what am I doing?

Maybe that’s why I’ve put off registering…

No, I have a better reason why I’ve put off registering, I’m waiting to see how my knee/IT band does once I’m up a little more mileage, basically, this week, and next will tell.  If you see me passed out on the side of the road some morning, you’ll know that: 1) I probably won’t be running the PDX Marathon after all and 2) that I may be in need of your assistance.  Call 911 and come help me.  Hopefully I won’t already be dead.

You know, when I tell people that I’m training for a Marathon, everyone seems to get the same look of shock, amazement and terror in their eyes as they reply, “YOU ARE???”.  I laugh.  They stand there shocked a few moments more.  Then they say, “Wow, I could never do that, I’m not a runner, I hate running”. To that, I reply, “me too, I hate running, I was a cheerleader in High School and never ran more than a mile until I was probably… 20”.

Truth is, I’m not really a runner at heart, but there are a lot of things I’m learning to love about it.  Once you get over the “wall”… which usually takes a while… I don’t think I have in the past 3 weeks… Once the wall is broken, your legs become wings, and you could run forever.  Mentally you come to a place of triumph, and you soar down the road and leave clouds of dust behind you.  It’s an amazing feeling.  I can’t wait to get back to that.  Hopefully this week.

Anyway, I’ve been trying to get into a routine of getting up early and running.  Let’s just say I haven’t been successful.  This morning, as I lay lifeless in bed, with my nose still throbbing in pain from how many times I had blown it yesterday, I suddenly woke up, seeing the dim dawn light coming through my curtains. I rolled over to glance at my phone to see the time was: 5:54 a.m.  Of course my first thought was “wow, I should really get up and go running now”… but instead of listening to that still small voice, I tried to sleep a little longer. As the minutes slowly passed by, it was like my shoes were calling me.  They wanted to run.  6:02 a.m.,  I jump up, gaze out my window and stare at the allergy infested grassland around me, I thought once again about going back to bed, but somehow my arms reached for my running shoes instead.  This was a truly out of body experience.

So yeah, I ran early this morning.  Short run, just 3 miles.  (And yes, there was once a day when a “short run” was more like five steps, but these days, 3 and 4 milers are short.  Wow, I’m a runner.)

Well, if you care, you’ve finished this blog.  I’ll keep you all updated on how my body is surviving this venture.

10.10.10.  If I’m still alive and make it to race day.