This is for all the lonely people…

“Being alone is very difficult.” ~Yoko Ono

Marathon training is not only hard, but it’s lonely.  I don’t think it’s something you can truly understand until you go through it yourself.  I have friends that have run marathons so I thought I got it.  I most certainly did not.

I remember being out with friends, begging them to have one more drink, one more bite, one more anything, and scoffing when they said they couldn’t.  Of course they can, I thought.   They’re just being (insert word here).  And of course, that’s when you could get them out at night.  Because most times, you can’t. Now I know, though, that you can’t eat one more bite, because it might be the thing that puts you over the edge during your run that evening.  And you can’t always have another drink or go out at all because you have to get up at 4 am to run X number of miles.

I know all this now.  And it sucks.

What I need is someone to say “Let’s stay in and watch a movie tonight because I know you have a long run tomorrow.”  Or “Here, have some water with lemon to hydrate for your run in the morning.” Or how about someone to tell me to put down the fucking cupcake or smack the Ritz crackers out of my hand.

But I don’t have a person like that.  I don’t have a partner in crime for this adventure.

It’s hard to go through this alone and I wish, now, I would have been more understanding of my friends that have gone through it before me.

Balance is key, in all aspects of training, and I have to admit I’m doing a terrible job.  I’m either too serious or not serious enough.  Eating everything in the house or nothing at all.  Running all the miles or hardly any.

And now that I’m injured, I am feeling all of this times 10.  I know I need to rest, but I know I can’t not run.  And no one gets it.

It’s officially 100 days until the marathon.  I just have to make it through and then everything will go back to normal, right?

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And so we begin

“I dare you to train for a marathon, and not have it change your life.”  ~Susan Sidoriak

Tomorrow’s the day. The day I take a breath. The day I move on. The day I continue moving forward. The day I put the past behind me.  The day I emerge from the ashes that is my mistakes.  The day I work for what I want. The day I make my plans a reality.

Tomorrow’s the day I begin training for the TCS New York City Marathon.  It’s going to be hard.  It’s going to be rough, on both me and the ones closest to me. It’s going to be life changing and that’s what I’m counting on.

I’m excited and petrified.  I’m ready and not ready. I’m worried and surprisingly calm.  I’m all this and more.  I’m a myriad of emotions I don’t even have words for.

Tomorrow’s the day…the day I become who I was meant to become.

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Serious is as serious does

“A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.” ~Jackie Robinson

Crackers.  That’s what my life’s been about these days.  Ritz crackers.

I don’t know why, but I have become obsessed with them.  I’ll even buy them when they’re not on sale, which for me is a very big deal.  They’re buttery.  They’re salty.  Like the little black dress, they go with everything.  They also have almost a gram of fat per cracker…and let’s not even get into the ingredients.  Yet lately, I can’t stop eating them.

It’s not for lack of healthy food.  I have hummus and veggies and fruit (oh my!).  It’s simply lack of desire.  Frankly, it feels like a case of the “W’s”.  Why bother?  Who cares?  What does it matter?  Where am I actually going? When am I going to get myself together?

The truth of the matter is that I haven’t been taking myself seriously.  I’ve just been eating and lazing about.  Sure, I just had a baby a few weeks ago and most people seem to think I should just be laying in bed, holding my baby, and eating chips.  But that’s not me.  At least, it’s not anymore. Two ago it was.  Post Oliver and Maxwell it was.  But it’s not now and I know that I can’t go back to that.

While I think my cracker habit is innocuous, the wine and chocolate habit certainly isn’t and the scale is reminding me of that every Friday morning as I step on.  Before, when the numbers went up, I could always just tell myself I was building muscle so it was ok.  At that time, though, I was also running 25 miles awake so that was probably true.  Not so much right now.

I signed up for 6 races while I was pregnant, hinging on the fact that having a goal or end point was going to make me jump right back  after having the baby.  With one of these being the New York City TCS Marathon I need to start taking the idea of running them seriously.

I feel like I fluctuate between “hell yes” and “hell no” whenever I think about actually completing the marathon.   Moment of gut-wrenching truth? I have this feeling like I KNOW I am going to chicken out which is why I’m not training like I should.

I’m not taking this seriously and I’m not taking myself seriously.  That is a problem.  I still have trouble identifying myself as a “runner”, even more so now since I really can’t run again yet.  I still get hung up on the fact that other people might not see me as a runner.  I somehow automatically assume that everyone is judging me and the real reason is because I can’t stop judging myself.

I need to hold myself more accountable.  I need to take myself seriously…even if other people don’t.

Because screw them.

I’m running the freaking New York City Marathon.  And it’s going to be awesome.

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The Last Supper…

“Abandon all hope ye who enter here.” ~Dante

As you may or may not have read here (depending on if you follow my self involved ramblings on my blog), I entered the lottery for the TCS NYC Marathon…and was accepted.  I won’t go into much detail because the whole story is listed on the link above, but I have to say that each day I float between elation and crippling fear.

It sounded like a great idea in January.  It was still 11 months away.  The chances of me getting in, especially for the first time, was slim to none.  I was safely encased in my pregnancy…a legitimate excuse not to run or really train for that matter so I wasn’t injured, or ultra tired (except for being pregnant), or broke because of race entry fees.  But now, I’m 12 days post baby and the marathon is 196 days away.  28 weeks.  Approximately 7 months. As the little one and I blog together this evening I can’t help but wonder if I wasn’t completely insane for even considering this.

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Insanity, is of course, a relative term.  This is going to be tough, no doubt about it.  But I’m itching to get started again.  As of Friday I am down 20 pounds since my last pregnancy visit…that’s actually 3 pounds less than my lowest weight pre-pregnancy.  It’s definitely motivating.

But, for the past 12 days I’ve also kind of let myself go.  It’s been nice to have wine.  It’s been nice to eat more than a few bites without feeling full.  It’s been nice to not have heartburn with EVERY SINGLE FOOD that I eat.  And really…should we even mention the Easter candy that is finally gone (with much of my help).  But not anymore.  This week-end has been a “last supper” if you will.  I went a little more indulgent, a little more unhealthy, a last hoorah of bad decisions before jumping in wholeheartedly.

It’s time though.  I’ve had my share of wine, sugar and fried food.  I’m ready to get back on the wagon and really put my heart and soul into this training, eating healthier, and really moving forward with my life.  I could say that it’s all about the marathon, but really, it’s more than that.  I now have three beautiful, wonderful kids that I want to be around for for many years to come.  I’m not only training for a marathon, I’m training for life.

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Tonight I raise my glass…to me and all I’m going to accomplish this year, especially the NYC Marathon.  Even if I’m last  I’m going to kick some ass.

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This week’s training goal: 20 miles walking at a rigorous pace