Running was my existence for an entire year.
And then it wasn't.
The marathon killed my body and spirit. The 14+ mile training runs had me hobbling into work the next week with bandages and ice packs. I couldn't wear heels for months. Shin splints alone were enough to stop me, but I continued on so that I could cross off that bucket list marathon goal.
Then the actual marathon was a disaster. My training plan wasn't adhered to 100% because the shin splints and ankle rolling would set me back a couple days. At mile 18, I was tired and sore, and wanted to walk a bit. My dad was running the marathon with me and had vowed to stay with me till the end. When I started limping/walking every few miles he told me to throw in the towel, I obviously wasn't going to finish, he was going to call me a taxi. Don't for a minute think that this was his way of motivating me - he meant every word. At mile 20 he left me and crossed the finish line. I jogged/limped the last 6 miles all by myself and crossed all alone.
My runs up until recently have been empty and meaningless. I miss my regular running routes in Maryland and my coworkers who would always want to sign up for some fun local race.
Ever so slowly, that passion for running has been creeping back. When I ran the Baltimore 5K in October, I watched in jealousy of the half marathon runners. I was right beside them in 2011! A coworker who'd run the 5K with me felt the same way, so we signed up for the 2013 half marathon.
Then when I moved to Pennsylvania, people began telling me about the local runs. So I signed up for a ten miler race this spring. Then, a new coworker told me about his team for a Tough Mudder and somehow convinced me to sign up for that brutal race.
Lets take inventory:
- 5K in March
- 10-miler in the spring
- Tough Mudder in the summer
- 5K in August
- Half marathon in October