I told my legs to do a long run and they said "No, No, No"

Saturday afternoon was unseasonably warm and sunny. I left my apartment in shorts, which usually means I'm in for a good run (I love running in shorts). So what I had 15 miles to cover? I had already run 13 before and at that point, what's another 2? I ran down Green Street and down the hill, across Main Street, and under Rte. 93. As I approached the Cambridgeside Galeria, I began to notice that my legs felt more like two giant hunks of lead than well-trained, marathon running machines. About two miles away from my apartment I stopped running and decided to walk back home, completely defeated, but convinced that tomorrow would be a better day and I would get my 15 miles in then.

Sunday morning I woke up after a great night's sleep, drank some gatorade, had a delicious peanutbutter and jelly sandwich, and prepared myself for another attempt at my run. I was happy because it was warm enough to wear shorts yet again and I was pumped to watch the Pats play in the Superbowl later that night; everything was lining up for me to have a great run. I left my apartment, ran down Green Street, down the hill, across Main Street, and under Rt. 93. As I approached the Cambridgeside Galeria, yet again, my lead legs came back. It felt like there were bowling balls tied to my ankles, my legs were pleading with me to stop and turn around to go home. I pushed a bit farther, out onto the path by the Charles and to the Longfellow Bridge. I stopped to walk a bit, thinking that I had at least gone past where I had run on Saturday, maybe it wouldn't be so bad for me to head home. Then I remembered Nancy.

Nancy is a woman who I met running the Thursday before I went to Turks and Caicos. On a run where Marcy (a fellow DFMC runner, and pretty consistent running partner of mine) and I had decided to "just take it easy," Nancy and LyneAnne pushed us to run one of our fastest runs to date. It felt great! During our run, Nancy told us how she had run the Boston Marathon while undergoing treatment for breast cancer. Despite being physically ill, and feeling terrible she pushed through and ran a marathon all while being treated for cancer! As I walked along the river on Sunday afternoon, I thought of her story and realized that if it was possible for her to push herself through a marathon under those conditions, then I could certainly muster enough energy in my legs on a beautiful Sunday afternoon to run 15 miles. So I had a little heart to heart with my legs:

"Hey, LEGS! Yeah, you piles of lead down there. Listen... we are going to do this long run whether you like it or not. I just gave you two a nice long break on the beach and now you're complaining about being tired? Suck it up!"

(As I was having this little conversation with my legs I realized that running has, indeed, made me a crazy person, but I digress...)

And with that, I ran all the way up the river, past Harvard to whatever bridge it is that comes after that, across the bridge and all the way back to Charlestown, zig zagging back and forth across the bridges on the way home. I'll admit, it was more like a 14 or so mile run, not quite the full 15, and by no means was it pretty, but I did it. My legs aren't the boss of me...

"Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference"

-Winston Churchill