People have felt compelled to tell me about their running excursions with an air of self belittlement. When things like “only a 5k” or “only a 12 minute mile pace” come up, I cringe involuntarily. Why even think like that in the first place? It feels like ages ago, but I still remember when I first started running. I used to cry most days when I was up running the trail at Westridge. Not cry from pain (although there was definitely a lot of pain), but cry from the frustration of having the pain in the first place, wanting to be back in my bed at 5am, the cold, the winded feeling in my lungs and the overall exhaustion. I cried because I wanted desperately to quit while at the same time I was deathly afraid that I would give up. This was how I eventually learned to train my mind to wander. I used to get through the worst of those runs by thinking about where I wanted to be… at the time I imagined myself bulldozing through the trail, leaping up the mountains and effortlessly gliding across the sky at dawn while the rest of the world slept.
Allison + Me (Surf City Half Marathon 2010)
The whole reason I had started running in the first place was to be able to get through a dark time in my life. I wasn’t who I wanted to be when I started, I felt that given enough time and effort, that I would figuratively and literally be able to catch up and run towards the person I wanted to be, someone with discipline, strength, endurance, agility, someone who could take pain and push through it. Someone who would always be able to break the tape and cross the finish line for any goal.
I made a trip up to that trail today for hill sprints. As soon as I started pushing myself up the climbs, I had flashbacks of some of the times that I would buckle and bend over in agony trying to catch my breath and although the small glimmer of accomplishment flashed across my mind, it wasn’t nearly enough. Although I have made significant (for me) breakthroughs in my running with regards to pace and half marathon endurance, the thought of double that distance is incredibly daunting.
My second marathon is 34 days away. Every time I think about it, my heart starts racing. Times like this, I know I have to take a breath and just do the mileage, don’t worry about pace, just go. Wear my heart rate monitor if it helps. Every mile is an accomplishment. Every single one. (That’s what I tell myself during a scary long run.) Tomorrow I’m holding myself to the 16 miles I’ve been putting off. I’m thinking about doubling up my long runs for the next two weeks, just to feel more mentally at ease about it – after my run today I felt pretty strong, so I think my body can handle it – well it better anyway.
