Learning...slowly
Mood:  happy
Topic: Marathon
Where to begin??

Yesterday was my long run day. I got up at 3:15 a.m. and was out the door by 4:20 with a goal of finishing 26 miles by 1:00 p.m. Ophelia brought the heat and humidity back to the state, so I was glad to be out running under the full moon before the sun heated everything up. The run started out well. It was supposed to be "24-26 miles, easy" according to the online training program I've been following. I don't know about anyone else, but for me, there is no such thing as an easy 26 miles. Still, I didn't want a repeat of the last long run, so I ran very conservatively. For the first half of every mile (for the first 12 miles), I ran for 1 minute followed by 1 minute walking and for the second half, I ran two minutes followed by 1 minute walking. I felt like I could have continued this for a long time, especially if the temperature stayed cool. At mile 12, I changed my route, so I was doing 3.5 mile circuits rather than .5 mile loops and getting some hill work in.

My plan for the workout was to try to be as efficient at each stage of the day as possible. By mile 15, however, my mind and heart were no longer in it. I wanted to sit down in the grass and cry. Instead, I called Hans who was cranky because I was interrupting his viewing of Sunday Morning who said I wouldn't know if I could actually finish a marathon until I actually competed in one. Not helpful or supportive, but I decided to keep going. The most efficient I could be was 1 minute running, 1 minute walking, so I continued this until mile 20. That sounds pretty lame, but I was actually happy, because by mile twenty on all other occasions I had already given in to just plain walking. As soon as I hit mile 20, though, every time I ran--no matter how slowly or granny-like I tried to do it--I started getting tiny little cramps at the intersection of my calf and the back of my knee. They weren't the charlie horse kind of cramp I am used to that locks my calf into one giant knot. They were very specifically located and sharp and actually felt more like I would imagine something tearing would feel than like a cramp. So I resigned myself to walking the last six miles.

I got to mile 25. It was already well past 1:00 p.m. and I made a decision.

I am not running the Marine Corps Marathon next month. Nor am I going to ask for a deferment until next year. I am not ready. If I could somehow manage to go at my own pace, and not get sucked into the pace of the crowd at the beginning, thereby avoiding the otherwise inevitable asthma attack, I think I could drag my ass over the 26.6 mile course. But it would not be fun or exciting or exhilarating. It would be torture, for me and for all the volunteers who would be waiting on me to finish. And, if I couldn't do that, and I started too fast, I would have the asthma attack, I would run out of energy too soon, and I probably wouldn't finish. Neither option is attractive to me right now.

Why should I race up to D.C. on Saturday, spend all the money on gas and a hotel room, then beat myself up for 9+ hours while Hans visits the new Indian museum alone, just to drive home Sunday night. If I'm going to spend that kind of money on my first visit to D.C. with Hans, it should have something fun in it! We both lived and worked there and we've always talked about going and showing each other our favorite things in the city, but I wouldn't have the energy to spare or the time for that this trip.

On Sunday it became very clear to me that forcing myself to endure the marathon next month was breaking the promise to myself I made at the end of my 2001 Half-Marathon finish. I promised myself that I would not do that to myself again until I was healthy and well trained and really ready. I am not healthy, well trained, or ready and I really have nothing to gain from punishing myself this way.

In February, when I needed to make the decision whether I was going to commit to this year's race, holding the marathon out as a goal was useful because it got me walking and I started eating better, although we all know that went out the window months ago. So, in some ways, this commitment served its purpose. I don't hate running anymore--one of my primary goals. And I can comfortably finish 8-10 miles and feel really good. Definitely more than I could ever say before. So good for me! I'm in a better place now than I was a year ago. On the other hand, the marathon training did not teach me the discipline I was hoping for with either my exercising or my eating on any kind of long-term basis. I was sporadic in my training, focusing on and completing the long runs on Sunday, but blowing off many of the shorter runs and weight sessions during the week. In that way, the marathon, by giving me a goal and an end to always be looking toward, really was a distraction from my true purpose of finding a healthy lifestyle that I can maintain every day.

I could spend the next six weeks intensely focusing on eating healthier foods to support my training and being a slave to my training schedule in the hopes--not of improving my speed because it's too late for that--of improving my overall fitness level so the marathon might be less painful and more enjoyable. Or, I could spend the next six weeks focusing on listening to what my body wants and learning how to take care of it on a daily basis so I can ultimately be who I want to be.

There will always be marathons and triathlons and every other kind of crazy endurance event I might want to try. But I'm not ready for them yet. By aiming to finish this particular marathon I was trying to reap the reward without doing the work to get there. I was skipping steps. Trying to move into a house I'd built that didn't have a sound foundation and was going to fall down around my ears at any moment. I don't feel any sadness in letting go of this particular goal. I want to hold onto the conditioning I have achieved, and build on that, but otherwise I'm ready to let this go.

My next task is to learn patience and love and to get back in touch with my body so we can be partners rather than enemies. And I need to remember that, just as I am not my thoughts, I am also not my body.

In other news, I finally got in to see a very kind psychiatrist in Greensboro today who said I seem to think things through well and had my recovery well in hand. At this point she didn't recommend, nor do I want, medication for depression. She told me to watch the episodes that look like hypomania and keep working with my counselor and to call her if anything changes, but she didn't think I was presenting as bipolar. Very good news!! (I'm sure Hans will disagree because he is absolutely convinced that I am bipolar and no one's going to change his mind. Will someone remind me again, why am I living with him?)

Overall, I am feeling peaceful and optimistic and really at home in myself today. Nice! Will have to remember to feel this way more often....