Hope

Perhaps my lack of blogging about my marathon training has been the inability to exactly articulate how I've been feeling as I've been going through each day the past two months.

At week 1, I was so uncertain as to whether or not I would be able to actually complete the 4 months of training, let alone complete a 26.2 mile run. I mean, just the week before, I took the 5K turnoff on a 10K run because I was in too much pain to go any farther.

I was full of doubts and had very little confidence in my ability to run.

But I had committed myself to the marathon, and I had committed myself to raise funds for MOCSA.

There was no backing out at this point.

I had to at least try.

The first run went well. And then the second run. And the third and the fourth and the fifth ... Every run felt like they did when I first started running: good. I had spent so much time running injured, so much time fighting through the pain that I had forgotten why I loved running so much in the first place.

Now, three days a week, I am reminded.

Even now, I'm not sure I can explain why I love running. There are days when I groan, "Ugh, I have xx miles to run tomorrow morning." Most of the time, I still get up and get those miles in, with absolutely no regrets. In fact, my only running related regrets in the past two months have been 1) not running and 2) getting a little overzealous on purchasing running stuff (whoops).

I rarely listen to music when I run these days. Generally, it's just me and my Garmin, Tjom, and my roadID, and my water bottle. I had a friend ask me how I didn't get bored on runs lasting over 2 hours without anything to listen to.

I honestly don't know how I don't get bored on those long runs. I'm always by myself, minus the runners and bicyclists and occasional turtle or deer I meet on my long run trail. I spend a lot of time thinking about different things, dedicating miles to those that MOCSA serves, and just ... being, I guess. There is no real struggle during these long miles and hours on the trail; it's sorta as if I'm just hanging out with an old friend at our weekly 'happy hour'. I really do just get out there, tick off the miles, enjoy the peaceful mornings out by the lake and head home. It's a ritual I am pleasantly surprised to have, and I want to always have a weekend morning ritual like this.

My confidence in my ability to not only complete the marathon, but to actually enjoy doing so is through the roof, and the only thing I can really say to sum up how I feel is that I feel hopeful. And I'm not just hopeful about the marathon, or about enjoying it or about how wonderful it will feel to see that finisher medal hanging in my apartment. I'm hopeful about everything. It's been a long time since running has given this to me, and let me tell you: it has been worth the wait.