It’s hard to get psyched to run 5 hours when it’s still dark outside and you see frost on the car. I was tired of the early morning weekend wake ups. Just wanted to blow it all off and sleep till 9 or 10 am. Isn’t that what most people do on their days off? I thought of Forrest Gump, who at some point, basically said he was done running and didn’t want to do it anymore. I thought of my NYC marathon training partner who quit her running career at 18 miles. What was I thinking when I signed up for the Dublin Marathon? Didn’t have enough when I ran the lonely and humiliating Albany Marathon? Even a blind guy passed me halfway through a 26.2 event. He was tethered to a sighted runner and there was no way I could keep up with them.
Maybe I should have stopped the running career after the very uplifting NYC marathon in the mid 90’s. Quit while you are ahead I thought this morning. For today’s run everything was laid out the night before. I find that easier than searching for running clothes at 5am. Water bottle and carrier, check; road ID (in case I pass out and they would know who to call for emergency pick up of the body) check; recharged iPod shuffle packed with 70’s music, check; a few zip lock bags with honey poured in them (for quick energy when I feel like I am about to pass out) check; moleskin for possible foot blisters and band aids for the scars I have been getting as a result of cheapo jog bras, check; mental status questionable.
After I put on my one good pair of smart wool socks (that I end up washing after each run) I turn to the spot where I usually keep my running shoes. Conyo, Sheisse, Meard (although the spelling must be wrong they basically all mean crap). Where the…. are they? A sneaker search ensues with a trip to the car, back to the house, back to the car. No running shoes located. I decided that I either left them in my Monday – Friday home, or I left them by the side of where I was parked at any number of random places that I choose to run from day to day. I decided to feel confident that they are at my alternate home. What a nice excuse to go back to sleep.
A brief battle took place with my inner voices. “Hey, you can’t run without your marathon sneakers. Go back to bed, it’s cold outside, you can sleep till noon. You already a 22 miler and you don’t need to do any more long runs. The Guinness will still be flowing if it takes you five hours or seven hours to run the
Dublin Marathon.” “Come on, you can just slip on your trail shoes” said my more ambitious side. “It’ll be great. You don’t need to run the road. You know you love the back country trails, this is gonna work out great.” Back and forth the two sides had their typical discussion.
Moments later I had on my LL Bean trail shoes; although they are one or two sizes too large, I had to get them cause they were only a few bucks at the thrift store. With a pair of heavy socks they are do-able and a good substitute for my misplaced marathon shoes.
With bagel in hand I step out of my cold house into an even colder environment. As usual I don’t have a plan. three direction choices from my doorstep include a slight downhill (which meant the uphill at the end of the run), a slight uphill or a serious uphill incline. I opt for the slight uphill with a serious (or two) hills to hit me in a few minutes.
I click on my shuffle and feel grateful to my son for packing it full with tunes from the Beatles, Crosby, Stills, Nash and a few random contemporary bands (meaning anything after the 70’s)
Here Comes the Sun” is the first tune of the day making me wish that I might actually see the sun today. There’s still frost on the cars and I opted to start the run with a wool hat. There were definitely no signs of sun at this time of day.
I tried to kick my body into a smooth low gear while I chomped on the day old bagel. I was reminding myself how good the run was for me. I knew how important it was to maintain the strength and stamina that I had acquired in the last several months. I kept reminding myself of my goal to stay below 160lbs and how this helped. I was glad it was dark out since most of the folks were sleeping and no one could see how slow my pace actually was.
I was tired of hearing people yell at me from their cars, telling me to “chop, chop, speed up the pace” or” hey can’t you do any better than that.” Who cares, I thought, at least I am out here doing it. As long as I don’t go backwards I am going forward (this was my motto). About a half hour after wake up I start to feel glad that I opted to roll out of bed so early. Leaves are at a beautiful fall color, my body temperature is finally perfect despite the morning chill, the streams still raging as a result of Irene. “How could I have slept in” I wondered.
After an hour or so I felt strong. Certainly it was mainly due to the fact that the trail flattened out and I could enjoy a view of the Catskill Mountains. I was starting to reap some rewards. I was beginning to feel the mental high that drives me to do ridiculous things. Suddenly there was a very good reason why
I go to bed early and sober on most Friday and Saturday nights. I felt back on track for Dublin’s 26.2