For all of the energy that I possessed during my long run yesterday, I felt drained this morning. I was literally running on empty this morning. I didn’t run; I slugged. More than that, I felt like a slug. I was moving along so slow, that when I passed a young mom and her three-year-old son sitting on their porch, he asked her, “what is she doing?” I guess he couldn’t tell.
But something reminded me today of what all the training was about. For on the road next to me flowed the peloton, a group of cyclists racing, a blur of bright colors, a swoosh as they passed me at lightning speed. And in that group was my husband Bill. He was racing bikes for the first time in fifteen years. And having a very nice time, thank you.
As I told my friend Aimee last year at the marathon starting line in Memphis, “This is the fun part. The hard part is over.” The hard part is the training, the long lonely miles in rain and heat when you can’t find a water fountain and the Snickers in your pocket has melted into syrup. The hard part is when your feet hurt and your legs ache and you still have twelve miles left in your workout…and another workout scheduled for tomorrow. The hard part is getting out there when it is dark and cold and you rather be in bed asleep. The Memphis Marathon has bands playing and crowds cheering and water and Gatorade every mile and even an occasional Elvis. And little St. Jude’s patients in their wheelchairs shouting and hollering for you as you pass the Target House because you are doing something they wished they could do.
And that kept me going today.
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