The fall of 2007 was Mike and I's first fall dating, and so my first glimpse at his fall wardrobe. Just as long sleeve shirt weather broke out, one evening over Potterville general store dinner (dinners at Mike's were always spaghetti, grilled cheese, or Potterville store...memories), I fell in love with the shirt Mike was wearing. An embroidered "MV 20miler" on the chest and the best part, a "no weenies" symbol on the sleeve. He told me all about the 20 mile race on Martha's Vineyard, and I told him that I wanted to run it. At this point I had no idea that Martha's Vineyard was an island off of Massachusetts, and I had never run further than 6 miles. But I was smitten. With Mike and the no weenies shirt.
My first 11 miler came the next weekend on a whim, and the long runs grew from there. Mike, registered for and planning to run Boston in April 2008, spent his entire winter training with me. He was there for every step of the first 15 miler, 16 miler, 17 miler, and 18 miler. I remember how wonderful those long runs were. Knowing every single Sunday that the morning would take me one mile further than I'd ever gone. No matter how tired I was at the end of a long run, the newness of running that first 16th, 17th, or 18th mile always made the last mile exciting and fun. The training was happening in the dead of winter, which meant huddling in the dugouts at the Cadis neball fields and downing rock solid gu and partially frozen slushy gatorade. These were also the days before my running gear had become quite so evolved. It was sweats, knit hats, multiple pairs of stretchy $1 gloves. Basically piling every article of clothing in my non-athletic wardrobe onto my body and hoping it'd keep me warm. Running through the state game lands one particularly bitter and windy January day, I remember crying to Mike that it was just too terrible and there was no way I'd be able to finish the run. In his best "suck it up and get tough" coach demeanor he reminded me that it wasn't going to be a picnic on Martha's Vineyard in February either and so I better figure out how to get it done now if I wanted to earn that "no weenies" shirt later. I finished.
The 2008 Martha's Vineyard came and went. I loved every step of the race, earned my first no weenies shirt, and didn't stop running a bit once it was over. In fact, I came home to run even more than I did in preparation of my first 20 miler.
In April I went with the Murphy's to Boston to cheer Mike and friend Dillon on in the marathon. I don't particularly remember envying the shirt this time, but I once again had serious race envy. I vowed I'd never watch Boston again, only run it.
The week after Boston, while Mike and I were running a favorite 5 mile loop we call Crow Hill, he asked if I was considering registering for another race now that Martha's Vineyard was behind me. I told him that I was thinking about Pocono Run for the Red marathon in May. He responded "umm, I was thinking more a half marathon..."
But I was determined and sure, so just 8 months after towing the line of my first (post 10th grade) 5K, I was at the starting line of my first marathon. The night before the race Mike and I talked goals. I love our tradition of talking race goals the day before a race. We always go "basic", "great", and "dream big". My basic: finish. 26.2 miles is a long way after all. My great: break 4 hours. Dreaming big: qualify for Boston (sub 3:40). The next day I crossed the finish line in 3hours and 36minutes. Mike and I drove home, two Boston qualifiers in the car.
The three years and five months that have filled the space between now and then have become a blur of running. Wanting to assure I started in Wave I at Boston, I dropped my qualifier to 3:21 in October. My first Boston was another 3:21. The next fall I pr'd with a 3:09 at Wineglass and turned around a month later to run a 3:19 at the New York City marathon with Mike and a disposable camera, by far my favorite marathon experience to date. Another Boston in 3:12. Another Wineglass in 3:12. Things got crazy enough last winter that Mike and I genuinely thought a "tune up" marathon in preparation for Boston was necessary. It was not, it was actually just a 3 hour and 20 minute reminder of how far 26.2 miles truly is. Another Boston in 3:11. And cue honey badger syndrome in regards to running. Months and months of this here honey badger, truly not giving a....well, just watch the video if you haven't already.
No matter how burnt out though, I just can't seem to say no. And so here we go again on Sunday. Only this one promises to be very different, and that's leaving me more scared than I've ever been going into a marathon. My usual repertoire of six to eight runs of twenty miles or further? I've run 20, 21, and 22. And two of the three without a watch. In fact, the vast majority of my runs are done without a watch these days. Heck, I don't even actually know how far I ran on the last long run, 22 is just my best guesstimate. And about that watch? I left my watch in my friend Julie's bag at the race in Syracuse two weeks ago and haven't missed it once. Track work? Tempo runs? I may genuinely have to look those terms up when I do decide to train hard again. I'm not worried about finishing 26.2 miles, (though given the way I struggled through 13 Sunday, I possibly should be), I'm worried about my mental state during and after the race. How will it feel to perform sub par at an event that up until just six months ago I was training to peak fitness for? Can I enjoy running 26.2 miles for "fun" and not beat myself up when, even at a time far slower than I ran so recently, the last few miles are still a death march, and this time also a testament to my decline in running fitness?
A teacher friend of mine recently made the comment (in regards to teaching, not running) "when it stops being fun, I'll stop doing it." Last winter, for the first time since the fall of 2007, running stopped being fun. And now, it's fun again. I'm healthy. I'm the happiest I can ever remember being. I don't have a glimmer of hope at running a PR on Sunday, but I'll most likely still easily run under Boston marathon qualifying time. Or maybe not, which is also fine. Whatever happens, I'm going to try to shake this inner brat who wants to bow out and stay home this weekend in an effort to conserve my pride, and instead I'm going to run 26.2 miles for the 10th time because I'm able, and that's something to be exceptionally grateful for. And because when the clock is taken out of the equation I really love it. My goals: basic: finish. Great: have fun. Dream big: cross the finish line feeling content and happy with the accomplishment regardless of the clock, realizing that it doesn't have to be as pretty as the others to be just as fulfilling.
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