Perfection

I'm a perfectionist. Always have been and most likely always will be. That's why it's so difficult for me to learn that I'm not perfect in so many ways. Running will teach you over and over again that you can always improve in a variety of ways. Just like life. Sometimes it throws you a curveball and you can't seem to make contact. The mental struggle continues.

25 more days...

Ready for the Truth

One of my favorite motivational quotes of all time I found on a blog somewhere else on the internet. It said, "20 miles of hope, 6 miles of truth". Today I ran 20 miles. I awoke at 5:58 a.m. and did what I normally do now that I've got an iPhone. I checked my email, looked at Facebook to see what friends are up to and then rolled off the side of the bed into the darkness of the morning.

I put my contacts in and headed down the stairs to the basement where I got myself ready for what I knew would be a very long run. It's the run that I normally dread. But this one I looked forward to all week. I wanted to run this 20-miler as if I was trying to qualify for Boston today. Why? I wanted to see where I stood on the brink of heading to Chicago. In just over 34 more days I'd be doing it for real. Each rung on the ladder of climbing this summer has been another hurdle cleared on my way back from one of the most awful injuries I'd ever sustained. Today was another hurdle. Another opportunity to do what I think most would say is not possible. Not after running just 2 1/4 miles in January and February. Not when in June and early July I was still struggling with some residual foot pain that cropped up from time to time and forced me to take days off from my schedule.

But I've never been one to submit to that which people say cannot be done. No; I'm motivated by that. I enjoy looking back on an accomplishment and saying, 'wow, I can't believe I just did that'. And so this morning I stepped outside into the foggy morning mist of a beautiful Labor Day Sunday and headed off on my path to self-discovery once again.

When I climbed the hill into Westmont and closed in on mile 3 and my legs began to get heavy I questioned whether or not it was wise to run this thing quickly. After all, the long slow run is to be done slowly. The purpose is not to qualify for Boston today. Yet, I somehow didn't listen to my body and looked at it as an opportunity. When I hit mile 6 and regretted having Mexican food at Don Pablo's yesterday on the way to the Pitt game I could have easily listened to my gut and my instinct that said, 'do 10 and then do the other 10 later this evening'. I thought about it, but only for a second.

As I hit my house and finished the first 'lap' of 10 miles, the fog had only begun to dissipate in patches. I grabbed my gel and drink and decided that the split run was not happening today. When the gel kicked in and I got a short burst of energy a few miles later I knew I had made the right decision. When I hit mile 15 and Becky was there waiting with my final gel and water for the day I knew it would be a tough 5 miles, but I looked at it as an opportunity to test my limits and push myself. After all, it WILL be required in 5 weeks on the streets of Chicago. There is no doubt that it WILL be needed. "Don't cave to your instincts" I kept repeating in my head. "This is part of the process. This will carry you when you're there. You'll remember this run."

When I hit mile 18 and knew that each step beyond it was the furthest I had run since the Johnstown Marathon last October I gained a growing sense of purpose. I pushed on. I knew that 1 3/4 of the final 2 miles would be mostly flat and downhill. Peering at my watch I knew I was having a good run; timewise. I knew I was struggling. And when I hit mile 19 and kept repeating that my legs "felt like 20 pounds of ground hamburger meat hanging from my hips" I knew I was growing. This is what the marathon is all about. I didn't have anybody pushing me today. I didn't have crowds lining the streets for each and every step. I only had me. And that's who is largely responsible come race day. Those other things help and surely they will. But not today.

Crossing my finish line behind my garage I clicked the stopwatch. 2:36:14. On race day I'll need to be at 2:32:40. But all things considered, today was a good day. My legs are still heavy but I've had worse. My body is cooperating. Even though I hesitate to say it, I feel I'm ready right now. I've got 5 weeks to go and I'll use each day to fine tune where I'm at. But the hard stuff is almost over. One more very long run next weekend that is yet to be determined distance-wise. I've got my 20-miler in. If I don't want to, I don't need to do another. There is comfort in that but I'll probably still do another. But it won't be fast. I'll save that one for race day.

I hope that the weather cooperates and I hope that today goes a long way toward getting me to that finish line in under 3:20. In 35 days, I'll be ready for the truth...