A Slow Start

Not long after crossing the half-marathon finish line in Stillwater, I signed up for the October 4th Twin Cities Marathon. I was on a high. I had a blast at Stillwater. Thirteen miles wasn't easy but the once impossibility of it made me think that the completely ludicrous idea of running a marathon might actually be plausible...

I am having a really hard time regaining that momentum. It took me awhile to stop aching after the Half, and then life crept in and distracted me, and then I moved, and then it got warm (I do miss the days of running comfortably in a long-sleeved tshirt). Which isn't to say that I've abandoned running in the interim, but I have ignored it more than proper training would dictate.

Today I ran, perhaps, three miles. Four? I wasn't keeping a good count because I was so focused on not passing out in the 90 degree heat and the pretty-impressive-even-by-Southern-standards humidity. I'm quite happy to breathe in that heat while walking about, but running in it is completely miserable. I'm trying to comfort myself with the thought that I need to get used to running in the heat, the same way I had to learn how to run when it got below freezing. My body simply has to remember what this feels like, then the runs will improve. Right?

I'm also trying to remember how impossible a 5K once seemed, and a 10K, and a Half. I've been at that "this is insane and I was a moron to sign up for this" roadblock before. I don't quite remember how I got past it those other times, honestly, but it appears that I did. Or rather, I just kept running despite my quasi-expectation of failure. And so, for now, that is my only goal. To just keep running. The momentum will come back, the excitement will return, but for now the only fuel I have to get me to that point is blind pride.

I won't quit, dammit.