Revenge

Did I ever mention that I completely crashed on the hills in Newton during the marathon? No? Well, I did. It was not pretty- my ultimate fear come true- I had to walk up part of Heartbreak Hill. It has eaten me up ever since. I can't tell you how badly I have wished that I could go back to that day and just suck it up and run all the way up that stupid hill. The thing is, on that day, 18 or so miles into the marathon, I was pretty sure that I might die if I made myself run up that entire hill... or worse yet, I might not finish the marathon (which I guess if I had died I wouldn't have finished the marathon anyways- but at least then I wouldn't have had to live with the humiliation). Regardless, once I finished the race that day, I knew that I could have run that hill and still finished- too bad I came to that realization 8 miles too late (hindsight is always 20-20).

Well, this past Tuesday I had the opportunity to return to the site of my demise and do a TNT run on the very same hills that had eaten me alive back on April 21st. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a bit nervous about the whole thing, but after a great race in Stowe the weekend before (yes, that thinly veiled fairy-tale was about me... surprise surprise), I felt pretty good about getting a good run in, regardless of the hills I would have to tackle. The run started out, and I immediately felt like I was going too fast to even possibly have enough energy to run the hills down and back- but my desire to not be last got the better of me, so I kept trucking along with my fellow TNTers. Before I even realized it, we were at the firehouse and turning around to go back over the hills the same direction as the marathon route. I charged up the first hill and was amazed how great I felt when I reached the top- instead of slowly ambling down the other side in an attempt to catch my breath and give my legs a rest, I kept up my pace and began mentally preparing myself for the next hill. Hill number two came and went without too much trouble and then it was time for Heartbreak. As I was approaching the incline, my teammate Matt came running up behind me and we talked for a minute. I explained to him that I was using this run as my revenge for the marathon- getting the hills back for embarassing me the way they did. He responded "Kick this hill in the balls" and with a high five- he raced up the hill. I "raced" up after him (at a slightly... ok, fine, way way slower speed) thinking the whole way up "I've always thought of these hills as female." Regardless, I ran the entire way up that stupid hill and spit on the top of it (I'm not really much of a spitter, but it seemed appropriate at the time). As I finished the run, I felt an overwhelming sense of redemption. Sure, the hills may have gotten the better of me on marathon monday, but I certainly showed them who's boss on Tuesday, and hopefully I'll keep showing them until next April when I can really get my revenge.

A Running Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a girl who decided to run a marathon. Now, this was not just any old marathon she decided to run- this was the Boston Marathon- but she was lucky because she had a coach who was known throughout the land as a great coach with a lot of experience in training for Boston- he had won it in '76, afterall. The girl knew that if she was going to accomplish her goal, she had better listen closely to all that her coach had to say. Despite knowing this, she often had trouble following his advice- not because she didn't want to, but because somewhere in her body there was a disconnect between her head knowing what she should do and her body actually doing it. The girl trained for months and successfully ran the marathon- however not without some trouble in the Newton Hills due to the fact that she ran too fast the first 13 miles of the race (exactly what her coach told her not to do). After the marathon, the girl continued training, running various races during the summer. Despite the fact that her coach continued to give her valuable advice on how to get back into running after the marathon, and how to work on her speed, the girl still had trouble following it. She struggled through run after run, and race after race, getting ever more frustrated with running and her inability to enjoy it again.

Then, one day, the girl went on a trip to Stowe, Vermont with a bunch of fellow runners to run an 8 mile race. After a day of fun with her friends, the girl woke up early the morning of the race and felt something she hadn't felt in quite some time- she was ready to run. The girl lined up at the starting line of the race and she heard her coach's voice in the back of her head "start slow, finish strong," and, as the race began, the girl settled into a steady and comfortable pace. With each mile, the girl gently increased her speed. Runners who had made the same mistake she had made so many times and had passed her in the very beginning of the race found themselves having to slow down from starting too quickly, and the girl passed them gaining strength and confidence. As the girl approached the 7th mile marker she suddenly realized that here she was, at the final mile of a race, and she didn't even feel like crap- she actually felt pretty good. The girl finished the race strong with a smile on her face as she ran across the finish line at a full sprint. She had finally managed to follow her coach's wise words and she had even had fun doing it! That afternoon, the girl celebrated a successful race drinking beer and eating ice cream in the rain with her fellow runners. Everyone had had a great weekend in Stowe, and they all ran happily ever after...

Hate is a strong word... unless you really mean it

It's hard to believe that it's been over a month since my last post. I think it can be safely assumed that I wasn't very thrilled with running back when I last blogged, and, I have to say, I'm not sure that has entirely changed. Let's be honest... when have I ever really been thrilled with running? Looking back through my blog posts, there isn't really anything that ever says "I love running." There actually isn't ever anything that says that I like running. In fact, the only mention I ever make about my feelings toward running is in saying that "I used to hate it, maybe I don't anymore." I think, now that I've had some time to ponder the situation, I can safely say that I do, in fact, hate running. I think I always have. The act of running, just running, is not something I enjoy. It is hard for me, it is painful, it is tiring, it requires a lot of effort... these are all things I hate. Why the heck do I continue to do this to myself?!?

When I was training for the marathon the answer to that question was obvious. I was running for something. All of that effort had some greater purpose other than just putting one foot in front of the other for the heck of it. I was training for something big, and I was running for something even bigger. But then the marathon was over and all I was left with was running. Running for the sake of stupid running. Sure I can train for races, get faster, etc. but it's still just not the same. So, that still leaves me with the question... why am I still doing this?

Sure, I hate running. But, and I believe this is something my dear buddy Linds will 100% agree with being President of the Team Injured and all, I think I hate NOT running more. As much as I LOVE the opportunity to loaf around my apartment, spend time with some non-running buddies and do whatever I feel like doing when I'm not running, I find that when I don't run I get cranky and moody, I feel lazy, and most importantly, I don't get to spend as much time as I want to with my running friends. It's hard for me to admit this, but I actually feel worse when I don't run than when I'm outside in the 90 degree weather, running mile repeats around the track with TNT (more on them at a later date- this blogging hiatus has caused me to leave out a lot of things that have happened in the last month or so... ).

Anyways, the point of all of this rambling is that I haven't blogged in a long time because I had a feeling that I hated running and I didn't want to be so negative. But I'm ready to admit it: I HATE RUNNING. I absolutely hate it, and I am okay with that. Anyone who thinks that left foot, right foot, repeat is fun is a crazy person. That being said, not running is even less fun- so I'm sticking with the running from now on. Maybe it will grow on me (probably not), maybe it won't (more likely), but until I hate it more than not running, I'll keep putting one stupid foot in front of the other and see where I end up... and I'll even blog about it from now on too.