I'm about one week into my 16-week marathon training, and today was my first attempt at gaining distance. I started out with the sun barely crowning over the trees. From what I recalled, I estimated that I could do a straight line towards downtown Arlington Heights, to Javier's and back (boy were those chips and guacamole good last night), to make my 6 miles. I left feeling cold and stiff (34 degrees according to my yahoo weather app). My face froze instantly, and hands followed. Though I've been doing this long enough to know that within minutes the blood starts pumping to my extremities and before long my palms were sweating. I heard Ann's words echoing as my legs struggled with short awkward strides, "I used to sign up for races, and the day before I'd be like, no way." This is good to hear. Ann is one of the toughest people I know, when she puts her mind to something. But she also has the sense to call it off when something doesn't feel right. I can eat the cost of a race, it won't break the bank. Anyway the race is at the beach so even if I get all the way out there and don't set foot on the course, a dip in the ocean will cure my grief.
I'm slogging away, having this little dialogue with myself, and my RunKeeper app chimes in "Distance: Zero point eight one miles," and my heart skips and my brain blurts out "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE 6 MILES?! YOU SHOULD JUST TURN AROUND, DUMMY, YOU'RE ALREADY EXHAUSTED!" My breathing gets faster, there's mucus in my throat, I know I should've had more water, and food, I feel so unprepared. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Cough. Thump. Sigh. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Shut up Brain.
I focused on the sun hitting the red and orange trees, evergreens mixed in creating a perfect contrast worthy of a lesson in a Color Theory 101 textbook. An exquisite sight right here along the tracks in my old stomping grounds. Frost on the outfield at the ball park, turning it a sparkly jade color. The volume of my old trusty running soundtrack is low, and I can hear the dull clink of an aluminum bat making contact with a ball...holy cow, a line drive. Seriously, there are kids practicing fall ball at this hour?
This! This is why running outdoors is far and away more enjoyable than running at the gym.
Breathing is getting more regular. Negative thoughts are still creeping in-but they're quieter now, I can hear them but just barely. I'm not reacting to them now. Now and then I check in with my old creaky joints. Hips, a little stiff. Left one aches. Left ankle too, plantar faciitis stings but not bad. I try bouncing a little more. Cory says your body uses almost all your muscles to run, so I try to put more of the burden on my glutes, my abs, my shoulders-pumping my arms sometimes makes me feel more fluid. Makes it feel more like dancing. This little pep talk with my body does a lot to put my attention on my whole entire body as a unit, and seems to put me in a more relaxed and natural stride. "Distance: One point seven five miles." Come on! Oh wait, that means I can turn around in...uh...0.75 plus half of 0.75, carry the 1...ah shit. How do I make it so this thing just chimes every 0.5 miles?
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Coming up over the hill (they weren't kidding around when they named it Arlington "Heights"). There's the Bubble Tea place...there's Eddie's. There's Village Grill (oh, hi Penny). Javier's! Now do I push myself and go around the block to turn around? I'm starting to ache and kinda need to retrace back down that little hill for motivation...Couple of heel stretches and let's turn this thing around and get some sun on my face. By now I've been running 35 mins without stopping and that gives me a tiny confidence boost because that is the only prerequisite for beginning this marathon training program. Some days I still feel like I can't even do that. So it helps to check it off each time I do.
The sun gave me some extra fuel, as did the downhill view of my downtown water tower/finish line. As these runs get longer I'll be more and more thrilled to go an extra half mile. Past the downtown, past the racetrack, past the post office, even past the highway, maybe even to Deer Park. And likewise ever more excited to see the symbol of my home town come into view. The Mariano's (with its public bathroom and water fountain, just in case), the Culver's, the 7-11, my personal milestones on this weekly journey. Step by step, each time getting further from home, letting go of more heavy baggage, returning a little lighter.
"Distance: Five point seven one miles." Ah jeez. I'm practically at my front door...okay one time around the block for an even 6. I come around the north side of the library and think about going up and down this grassy slope that leads to the parking level. Careful now, aware that my thighs and ankles and pretty worn out. (But frankly more concerned about encountering a skunk.) The uphill stresses my injured left foot...eeek. But I manage. Something to keep an eye on. I think as long as I take it slow and stay mindful it might actually help heal it. I think of all the times (ok, maybe it was only one time) that I met a boy here in this secluded corner of the parking lot, seeking an entirely different type of thrill.
"Activity saved."
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