Marathons

My husband came to me the other day and said he was running the Marine Corp Marathon this October and he wanted me to do it with him. I knew this was coming. I didn't even try to stifle my groan. Instantly the images and feelings surrounding the last time (only time) we ran that marathon in 2000 flashed into my mind. The hours-long training runs, the painful joints, the salty sweat burning my eyes and burning my skin. It kicked the enjoyment of running out of me for months afterwards.

Yes, it was a great experience in total. I was elated to cross the finish line at exactly my goal time, and it felt amazing to have accomplished something that took so much work. Running a marathon was always a goal of mine, one I wasn't sure I would ever attain. I did it though, and even though I'd really like to know if I could knock 15-30 minutes off my time (now that I know what it takes to run one), I've been thinking these past few years that once was enough. I'm not a great, easy, natural glider when I run. I trudge a bit, and it's hard on my body.

But I almost never turn down a fitness challenge like this. If friends are working out, I'll always go along, especially if it's my husband. The whole goal of working out, when we were first married, was to keep up with him on all our bikes, runs and hikes. Only recently have I passed up opportunities to do his death marches with him. I've realized I don't have to keep up with him, it's okay to go my own speed.

I'm passing on this marathon because I feel like I'm already in a marathon right now. In the past few months I've really set myself to make some real personal progress. I'm working on my spiritual/soulful life, (working through dysfunction from 30 years of Christianity), but also on my writing. I'm doing a lot of reading and finally doing some writing, which I've always wanted to do, but was too dysfunctional to make happen. You would think I could train for a marathon, work on my soul issues and do some writing, all at the same time, but I've put aside the most difficult task of becoming a writer for every little thing along the way my whole life. It's hard to write. For me it can be the hardest thing to do, and I can allow myself to be distracted by the tiniest thing rather than sit and get to it. Until recently. I'm just getting to a place where I'm actually writing a bit each day, and it feels good. So I'm making it my priority and doing the training runs for the book I will someday write, here, now.

I haven't bagged it altogether, I still love to run and DC has such great places to do it. I might do another one someday. I know I'll be a little bummed on race day. Kevin's recruited a few friends to do it with him and I've signed up to run the Army 10-miler with all of them three weeks prior to the marathon. So during Kevin's hours-long training runs I will run a few miles with him and my dog, then I'll picnic out at the parks with my books and journals, to wait for him and to spend most of my effort on my own personal marathon.