Yikes!! 30 days until the Boston Marathon. One more long run. The twilight of training is a tricky time.
The fear and loathing: Will Boston be hotter, windier or wetter than what I am accustomed to? I know it will be hillier. To spice things up, I fixate over the descriptions of the impossibly hot Chicago Marathon, 2007.
The doom: At this late date, could each and every ache, pain or sniffle portend something serious, a marathon-ending catastrophe? As a mom, there is always room for self blame: I should have eaten better or less, done more sit ups, lifted more weights or added another day of training. But at 30 days and counting, this cake is just about baked. I am in a holding pattern.
On the other hand, I have a deep appreciation for the quality of my training sleep. Not a small thing at 51! I’ve gained the confidence that comes from putting in the miles. I know the number of GU’s, Gatorade, glide, Advil and itunes required to endure the 26.2. And Boston is the ultimate excuse for buying a new running top or shorts.
Soon, Saturdays will be mine once more. I look towards spring yard sales and the Collingswood market. I will no longer fight off the pervasive Friday gloom- dreading the miles that lie ahead at 6 am on Saturday. And yet, despite the tedium of the miles, the hellishness of the cell phone alarm at 4:45 on icy January mornings and the pure bliss of no more killer runs until Boston, I feel secure in the fact that the Chicago Marathon is a lock for the fall.
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And, now it is over. Less than 24 hours after the Boston Marathon, the memory of the pain is fading, and I am remembering all the fun parts. It was a great run. The bus ride out and the wait before the run gave us a chance to meet other people. Everyone was friendly and willing to share their stories. The day was beautiful, cool and slightly overcast. The crowds were cheering so loud I took off my head phones for most of my run. I particularly loved the Wellesley students. One goal, besides finishing, was to kiss a Wellesley student. One young girl had a sign, “Kiss me I’m blond”. We kissed and then her friend all excited said kiss me too. After the race, and on our way home we met other runners. And, they too, walking gingerly, seemed upbeat with this great race and great accomplishment behind them.