I, um, have a confession to make.
I’ve been riding on the coattails of hubby’s enthusiasm. His motivation and keen attitude to run. I’m honestly not sure I’d have gotten out there some days if he’d not have hopped out of bed first and put on his running clothes.
And goodness knows I won’t be found lying in bed while he’s out running.
The other morning hubby’s alarm went off. I heard it, rolled over and lay totally still. For a few seconds I thought for sure I was getting another hour of sleep. But then the covers move and hubby’s slid out of bed.
“Aren’t you tired?”, I ask, and immediately feel guilty.
“Yah a bit, but I gotta run”, he says.
I close my eyes. And then shove the stupid comforter off of me and reach for my running clothes. Should have worn them to bed again – seriously, it’s so much easier. But a certain early morning runner doesn’t like it when I wear my run outfit to bed – it’s just silly, he says. And I kind of have to agree.
Once I’m outside and running I can’t imagine why I almost missed out on this. I love running. Sure I feel slow some days, tired on others – but running brings me a sense of peace and satisfaction I yearn for.
Well, on speed work days, screw the peace – but it is certainly a feeling of accomplishment. To push your body to its limits, demand so much of it and watch it perform. I love it.
So why do I procrastinate some days? Why do I drag my heels in getting out the door or pretend to be asleep and hope he’ll hit the snooze button 10 times?
“We’re Team Cuff”, he says. “We’re going to be the top married couple to cross that finish line, okay?”
It’s an actual category in the Victoria marathon. Married couples duelling it out. He’s done the calculations – if he gets his sub-3:00 and I do sub-3:21… Turns out we have a good chance.
So I get my butt out the door to run. To train. Because, after all, this is what I wanted. Right? I set this freaking crazy goal – to run a marathon at a pace I could barely hold on to for 20 minutes the other day. I knew I’d have to train my butt off to get it. Then I get worried. I’m not training enough. I’m not fast enough. In fact, who on this earth do I think I am? And what will people think if I don’t hit my goal?
Honestly? No one will care a drop.
What I need to do is hurry up and get over myself already, do the best that I can and always, always, always remember to enjoy every moment I’m out there running. Because that is what I want. To run for me and my sense of personal satisfaction, enjoyment and peace. To push my limits. To zone out. To find creativity. To daydream. To focus. To get my daily dose of movement. To climb to the next level. To challenge myself. To build my character. And my leg muscles. To feel alive. To feel strong. Running gives me so much.
Yes… It’s what I really want.
38 days to race day.