I started training for it and things were going well enough. I was getting my long runs in, but not being as consistent with mid-week, shorter runs due to parenting duties, Jim's travel schedule, homeschooling four kids, and generally being a grown up with responsibilities. I assume almost all of you reading this know what I'm talking about. Being a grown up is just so much less exciting and freeing than I imagined it at age 7! At any rate, I was still feeling good about training. Then I went to Mexico with my oldest son to build a home with friends from church with the organization Casas por Cristo. That meant I missed two big runs, an 18 and 19 mile run. I was sorry to miss the long runs at a key point in training, but would also do it a million times in a row for the experience I got to share with my son, people from church, and a truly amazing and deserving family from Mexico.
I tweaked my training schedule and set out for my 18 mile run on the Saturday I got back from Mexico. I had my route planned, but was dreading the run from the very start. I drove to Flying J ranch to get the show on the road, started running, and just stopped. It was a gorgeous morning, the temperatures were perfect, I was healthy, but I just didn't want to run 18 miles by myself. I just didn't want to. So I decided not to.
So I just didn't run 18 miles that day. Instead, I hiked for about 2 hours on the beautiful trails I intended to run and assessed my goals. How important was this marathon to me? Why did I even think I needed a redemption marathon in the first place? Would training for this marathon add to my joy or detract from it?
After a few weeks of soul searching, I decided the marathon wasn't that important to me, I didn't need a redemption marathon because my first (and only, so far) marathon was the very best marathon I could have run that day, and continuing to train would only detract from my joy and love of running. These decisions didn't come easy because I psychoanalyze myself to a fault and took just enough psychology classes to be a danger to myself. Annoying. Plus, I felt like a loser for dropping this race. Also annoying.
I finally started telling some friends that I wasn't doing the marathon, and a few of them were kind enough to inform me that I could drop to the half. (I should also note that none of them taunted me and called me a loser for not running the full. We really are stupidly hard on ourselves!) Well, I can run a half any day, which is both a blessing and a curse, since a person really should train for 13.1 miles, but since having a fourth child, I just never do anymore. So, instead of running a full 26.2, I dropped down to the 13.1.
|Race day. Downtown Denver with the Rocky Mountains in the background|
|It's go time. My corral inches closer to the start line.|
|Happy runner earns cool medal.|