They call it a marathon for a reason
Today I'm posting from the 22nd floor of the Westin Hotel in Pittsburgh, overlooking the Civic Arena (I will not acknowledge those darn corporate sponsors who are renaming everything!), the train station and, unfortunately, the Greyhound station. As Steve-o astutely pointed out a little bit ago, "It looks like the dandruff off an Englishmen's head out there." Yeah, it's in the 30's and raining/snowing. It's not pretty. Weather Channel aficionado, Sue Weber (my Mum), says that it's going to be 75 and sunny by Thursday (the day we have Pirates tickets). We're all hanging our hopes on that promise.
I don't know about you, but when I think of a marathon, terms such as "not easy," "ludicrous," (Ludacris got the beat, make your booty go [smack] - that was for you JP) "insane," and "brutal" come to mind. This past Saturday, I only ran a half marathon and round about mile 11, amongst other things, I thought, I will NEVER run a full marathon. I thought, if I just finish this alive, I'll be lucky. Easily the hardest physical thing I've ever done. But totally worth it. It's a pretty emotional thing to prepare for four straight months for something that takes just a little over two hours - two long, grueling, mentally and physically exhausting hours. I had shouting matches in my head with myself during the last few miles. It was the drill sergeant side of my split personality who barked at my wimpy, tired side "You will NOT stop! You can rest later you filthy piece of crap!!" Ok, so maybe I didn't call myself names. That was just one of the ways I kept myself going. A few miles earlier, I was searching for my motivation—my one good reason NOT to just lay down on the sidewalk and give up. So I started thinking about the Leukemia patients I was running in honor of... the people I had scrawled on my arms and ankles for everyone to see. As I focused on the challenge that life had dealt them, tears started to well up in my eyes. Hmm, maybe crying while running isn't the best idea. Better think on something else - but it had served its purpose and I was motivated once again. As I kept going, I told myself that when I crossed that finish line, I wanted to say that I had left my heart and soul on the course. That I had given it absolutely everything and literally had nothing left. Mission accomplished. The last mile (the very longest mile I've ever run in my life, mind you), I was simply counting backwards from 10—over and over and over. It was the only thing I could do to focus and not give myself over to despairing thoughts. After I crossed the finish line (I'll spare you the details that indicate my complete physical exhaustion), just know that if someone walked up to me and said, "Run now or I'll shoot you." I would have said, "Hey dude, whatever you gotta do, aight?" and went on drinking my purple Gatorade. Yeah, I think that constitutes as "everything" I had. Final time: two hours, four minutes, and fifty-seven seconds. Final thoughts: This one wasn't supposed to be for me, but it sure made me feel good. Doesn't it always work that way?
When's the next race kids?
Today I'm posting from the 22nd floor of the Westin Hotel in Pittsburgh, overlooking the Civic Arena (I will not acknowledge those darn corporate sponsors who are renaming everything!), the train station and, unfortunately, the Greyhound station. As Steve-o astutely pointed out a little bit ago, "It looks like the dandruff off an Englishmen's head out there." Yeah, it's in the 30's and raining/snowing. It's not pretty. Weather Channel aficionado, Sue Weber (my Mum), says that it's going to be 75 and sunny by Thursday (the day we have Pirates tickets). We're all hanging our hopes on that promise.
I don't know about you, but when I think of a marathon, terms such as "not easy," "ludicrous," (Ludacris got the beat, make your booty go [smack] - that was for you JP) "insane," and "brutal" come to mind. This past Saturday, I only ran a half marathon and round about mile 11, amongst other things, I thought, I will NEVER run a full marathon. I thought, if I just finish this alive, I'll be lucky. Easily the hardest physical thing I've ever done. But totally worth it. It's a pretty emotional thing to prepare for four straight months for something that takes just a little over two hours - two long, grueling, mentally and physically exhausting hours. I had shouting matches in my head with myself during the last few miles. It was the drill sergeant side of my split personality who barked at my wimpy, tired side "You will NOT stop! You can rest later you filthy piece of crap!!" Ok, so maybe I didn't call myself names. That was just one of the ways I kept myself going. A few miles earlier, I was searching for my motivation—my one good reason NOT to just lay down on the sidewalk and give up. So I started thinking about the Leukemia patients I was running in honor of... the people I had scrawled on my arms and ankles for everyone to see. As I focused on the challenge that life had dealt them, tears started to well up in my eyes. Hmm, maybe crying while running isn't the best idea. Better think on something else - but it had served its purpose and I was motivated once again. As I kept going, I told myself that when I crossed that finish line, I wanted to say that I had left my heart and soul on the course. That I had given it absolutely everything and literally had nothing left. Mission accomplished. The last mile (the very longest mile I've ever run in my life, mind you), I was simply counting backwards from 10—over and over and over. It was the only thing I could do to focus and not give myself over to despairing thoughts. After I crossed the finish line (I'll spare you the details that indicate my complete physical exhaustion), just know that if someone walked up to me and said, "Run now or I'll shoot you." I would have said, "Hey dude, whatever you gotta do, aight?" and went on drinking my purple Gatorade. Yeah, I think that constitutes as "everything" I had. Final time: two hours, four minutes, and fifty-seven seconds. Final thoughts: This one wasn't supposed to be for me, but it sure made me feel good. Doesn't it always work that way?
When's the next race kids?
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home