I ran up Mount Cootha this morning, up along the road and back and it was a tough 10.5k run, the longest I have run since I got sick, and I felt every stride. I felt great afterwards but whilst running it I really had to fight to not stop and walk. It was a constant battle to push myself to run especially up the steep bits.
It reminded me very much of some of my marathons I have run.
Tomorrow is the Gold Coast Marathon and I won’t be running any of it this year, not even the 5k, but I know a couple of people running the half, and a couple running the full marathon, and initially I was a bit envious. I imagine right now they will have all their kit ready, be full up on carbs, have their race number and timing chip ready to go, and anticipating the race tomorrow.
I thought a bit further and started to think back to when I ran my longer races and ok maybe I am not so envious. It’s one of those things that you either love or hate. After I ran my first marathon in London, I signed straight back up to do the Dublin later that year and then I did Berlin and then I did Paris – my last one in 2006. By the time I got to Paris my heart wasn’t in it anymore and I struggled so much with the race both physically and mentally, but I got round and then hung my running shoes up for a while after that, promising my husband I wouldn’t put him through the 10 weeks of nightmare training that both he and I had endured.
I endured the long runs, the blisters, the constant hunger, the tedium of the 20 mile training runs and the tiredness – whilst he endured my pickiness over food (i.e. no spicy good as it might make my stomach funny for a run the next day), my constant early nights, grumpiness from being tired from training and my general obsession with everything marathon.
I was only talking to my friend today saying I knew someone that had entered the New York Marathon and I thought I had one marathon left in me and I would consider doing it a few years down the track, and I thought to myself ‘argh what are you saying!?!’ but running is in my blood, sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it but it’s there constantly and I go crazy if I can’t do it. I love long distance running but it has a place in parts of my life not all, currently I am running middle distance runs and am loving it but I am sure there will come a time where I am ready for those longer runs again.
So part of me wishes I was lined up tomorrow to run the 42km and part of me is very glad I am not. I am so proud of the races I have participated in so far and those I am sure are yet to come, and I wish everyone lining up tomorrow the very best of luck and ask that they put a stride or two in for me :-)
Have a great weekend