Uphill Courage

I ran 20 miles yesterday.  I know, I’ve done that before.  Yesterday, was different, though.  I haven’t done it for two years…this is my marathon comeback season.  And I’ve been questioning whether I still have ‘it’ in me.  One of you reminded me this week about my purpose for running (her initials are AC for those of you who know me in the real world--wink). Basically, she asked, "weren’t you doing this for the joy you get out of it, for the meditation…if you aren’t enjoying it any more, you don’t have to do it."   I thought about that all week, and I had planned to make this training run the one that decided whether I would do the full marathon or switch to the half. I really believed the answer would be, “drop down to the half.” Instead, I found myself stretching my writing “muscles” again.  I can’t promise you’ll find anything profound here, but it felt pretty good to run and think again.  I’ve been too obsessed with distance and pace and not enough on the meditation.  I’ve learned this lesson before.  I guess I’m stubborn.

I showed up to the run with a sense of dread and anxiety.  I’d missed the first 20-miler, so I was already feeling my training was inadequate. Intellectually, I knew that wasn’t true, but there I was.  So, we started.  I knew immediately I wasn’t going to be able to keep the pace of the teammates I’ve grown accustomed to running with over the years.  I dropped back and decided it was time to run my own pace.  I quickly found myself in a no-person’s zone—too slow for the group in front of me, too fast for the group behind me.  I decided that I was going to have to figure out how to do the bulk of that 20 miles on my own. I was going to need something to focus on to get up that 3- mile hill known as Westham at beginning at mile 9 and the Boulevard hill at mile 18. I heard Coach E in my head say, “relax.”  I dropped my shoulders and started thinking about what writer Glennon Doyle said this week about courage…there is rage in the word courage. That became my mantra for the rest of the run.  I worked through some of the rage of the week. I decided that, ‘yes,’ it’s going to take courage to carry on—and part of that courage will involve some rage.   I’m still wrestling with that.  Until I figure that out, I’m moving forward, one step at a time, one act of kindness at a time, one vote at time, one finish line at a time.  I’m not going to worry about my pace.  And I’m going to remind myself to find joy or inspiration along the way.  I will get there. We will get there. And I will cross the finish line, one more time.