Nerves

I did run in SF last Tuesday, on the eve of the first game of the World Series. South on the Embarcadero, a lively 5-miler along the water, around the Giants' ballpark and back.


This morning it's a different kind of run coming up. I just had a bowl of cereal and two short cups of coffee. It's still dark outside--Sunday 6 am, and most of the world is still asleep. Should I head out for my scheduled 18-miler? Or just go for a 20 and the heck with worrying?

Instead of sitting in the kitchen, I sit at my desk to eat so that I don't bother Z, who was out late last night doing his docent gig at the Blackhawk Museum Halloween party. Instead of the Sunday paper, right now I read Runners' World. For motivation. To convince myself that I'm not too slow, too old, too undertrained to do this. I go online and use the RW pace calculator. To break five hours in the marathon I really will have to run an 11-minute pace. I can do that without too much pain in a 5K or a 10K, but a 10K x 4 is a whole nother thing, as we say.

For today, the goal is to go out, run for a long time, and appreciate what I can do (rather than bemoan what I can't).

Last post, I wrote in a fairly unfocused way about my "path." This morning, my path is what I'll go down for a few hours. Because my impulse to run feels so strong, so consistent, so urgent, this path can feel like something that has chosen me. But make no mistake here--surely I have chosen it, not the other way around.

Comments

Sunshine said…
Thinking of you.

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