running: running running a marathon training for the New York Marathon training for the NYC marathon
by Mommy Hobbies
In my napsack stash
My life has been consumed with running, running, running these past 16 weeks to the point that it felt like I had a part time job! But I’ve really enjoyed my new found love for running and the relationship I’ve developed with the road and hills out here.
I’m not saying that every morning I get up I’m roaring and ready to hit the road, but it gives me a little smile to know that the roads are my friend now and I respect their strength and what it gives to me. Not every day is MY day for a run either, but I’ve been having more good days than not, that’s for sure.
This past Saturday, I was set to run 12 miles. Got up around 6:30 so I could eat (not 5:30 this time) giving my tummy enough time to settle before I hit the road. There are a lot of runners who eat small before they run but I tend to eat fairly large. My system isn’t bothered by it at all. In fact, I feel charged and fueled up. So, I had an omelet and toast.
But right before I’m to head out the door, I remember my compression sleeves and I go to my drawer where I keep them. Not there. I look in my bag. Not there. No where. Can’t find them. Ticked. Call my dad. Not there. Boiling. Look in my drawer again. Every item that I wore for my last long run is there, folded, neatly. Compression sleeves? Missing.
My run starts out with a little black seething cloud over my head. But by the time I hit mile 2.5 it’s dissipated and I’m determined to have a great run. My pace is a bit slower than usual, because I’m going to enjoy every step I take. My clock tells me that I will not make it to Cy’s game because I wasted too much time look for the sleeves. I call David and let him know that I’m switching my route.
Mile 4: Hello again field of pumpkins.
Mile 5: Long corridor of trees.
Mile 6: Mennonite farm. The kids are staring at me. I turn around and head back toward my house. (I’m doing an out and back route)
Miles 7-9: Uneventful. Except a large truck with a horse trailer barrels past me unnecessarily fast and it irks me. We’re on a small road, no other cars…why race??
Miles 10-11: Feeling strong and happy. I see the same trailer again. It turns down my route and races to its destination. *grumble*.
Miles 11.5-12: Kitty in the road It was just hit, and I think I know who did it. Saddest part of my run, coming up on the kitty who was still alive and it raised its head to look at me.