until the last beat of my heart
Nine hours from the start line of my first half marathon, I feel mainly that I may never quite be the same person again. I feel as though I'm about to embark on a trial by fire, fierce and agonizing, from which I'll emerge changed, a different, more refined creature, with access to capabilities not yet mine.
Two weeks ago, after the longest run of my half marathon training (12.17 miles in 2:54:15), a guy from my 2013in2013 team said to me, "Tough runs make tough runners." It was what I needed to hear after the last three or four miles of that run, when more and more I couldn't quite see how to pass from each moment to the next, sustaining the movements of my body.
And then there will come a time when I must run with my heart.
I knew this, and I know this will be tomorrow's true test: not of the capabilities of my body, which is undertrained but adequate, but of the capabilities of my heart, which is a tenacious and resourceful muscle. These are the things I already know about myself, when I'm honest and brave and at my best, that I don't need tomorrow's race to prove: that I'm stubborn and persistent and longsuffering and strong.
I can do this. I will do this. In half a day, I will become that mythical self, Connie the Half Marathoner, and I will cry or kiss the ground, and this thing will always be mine to keep, and what is possible for me will change.
Two weeks ago, after the longest run of my half marathon training (12.17 miles in 2:54:15), a guy from my 2013in2013 team said to me, "Tough runs make tough runners." It was what I needed to hear after the last three or four miles of that run, when more and more I couldn't quite see how to pass from each moment to the next, sustaining the movements of my body.
And then there will come a time when I must run with my heart.
I knew this, and I know this will be tomorrow's true test: not of the capabilities of my body, which is undertrained but adequate, but of the capabilities of my heart, which is a tenacious and resourceful muscle. These are the things I already know about myself, when I'm honest and brave and at my best, that I don't need tomorrow's race to prove: that I'm stubborn and persistent and longsuffering and strong.
I can do this. I will do this. In half a day, I will become that mythical self, Connie the Half Marathoner, and I will cry or kiss the ground, and this thing will always be mine to keep, and what is possible for me will change.