. . . when I have a big day at work tomorrow?
Just found my way to someone else’s blog . . . . she recently ran the 1st training session of her 2nd marathon season. She sounded discouraged, doubtful, determined. And she mentioned a quote I’ve never heard before, “twenty miles of hope, six miles of truth.”
Tonight as I limped away from the grocery store — using the cart more as a walker than I care to admit, for the very first time I thought, “What if the pain gets to be too much?” Then came a whole series of responses:
Don’t even imagine that. . . You’ve never thought like that before. . . You’ll take more ibu and you’ll drink plenty of water. . . Ibu doesn’t upset your stomach. . . You’ll stretch. . . You’ll stop and go and stop and go and cry and go until you reach the finish line. . . Don’t think that way. . . You’ll stretch now. . . It won’t get that bad.
I just keep thinking, “I’m only a walker. How do the runners do it?”
At another blog, I learned about Grandma Lee. She ran her 100th marathon last Sunday. She ran her first one when she was 49. So there’s time.
Today I ordered the Garmin Gizmo. (Forerunner 205). I just realized that after two long walks with GPS pacing, I’m not going to want to face race day without keeping an eye on those numbers. Sometimes I can get down into the 12 minute range. I haven’t been able to sustain it yet, but it’s a goal. If only my IT band will heal or lengthen or whatever it needs to do, then I can get back to work on the speed. Not for this marathon, but for some race in the future.
I don’t want to become a runner. Walking is my sport. I want to walk faster. Coach says, “You’ll beat some of the runners.” I think, Yeah, the injured ones. He’s just being nice. But some day maybe I really will be fast.