Running log
Well, I can say that I tried...but I am not going to make it to the starting line of the Boston Marathon this year. It was not meant to be. I completed my 15-mile long run back in February and then the flu and successive colds plus dissertation writing and general motherhood put me out of commission. (<---EXCUSES)
Maybe if I get my PhD by next spring I will have more time to train and make it happen. But the physical pain of running combined with the physical pain of running in freezing rain, blizzards, and over icy roads, trails, and beaches makes the prospect far less enticing. Lots of people do this, though. Am I a total wuss? The answer: yes. I am disappointed in myself. I feel as though I ran through the hardest winter months only to poop out just as the more manageable spring weather is coming in. I am going into Boston to watch the marathon, even though I know that will increase the disappointment that I am not in the pack this year (or, more likely, trailing the pack). I'd hate to miss it, though.
To those of you not privileged to live inside my head, there is a horrible, horrible voice in there that basically lets me have it if I fail. A kind of interior verbal thrashing or punishment that would make grown men wince. I see people out training in their Boston Marathon gear and feel immensely guilty that I have given up the fight.
However, to be honest, another part of me is quite relieved that the pressure to make the starting line is off. I need to focus on the dissertation and the baby. And Dan, if I can manage to fit him in somewhere.
Dan, shouldn't we go on a date or something?
Maybe if I get my PhD by next spring I will have more time to train and make it happen. But the physical pain of running combined with the physical pain of running in freezing rain, blizzards, and over icy roads, trails, and beaches makes the prospect far less enticing. Lots of people do this, though. Am I a total wuss? The answer: yes. I am disappointed in myself. I feel as though I ran through the hardest winter months only to poop out just as the more manageable spring weather is coming in. I am going into Boston to watch the marathon, even though I know that will increase the disappointment that I am not in the pack this year (or, more likely, trailing the pack). I'd hate to miss it, though.
To those of you not privileged to live inside my head, there is a horrible, horrible voice in there that basically lets me have it if I fail. A kind of interior verbal thrashing or punishment that would make grown men wince. I see people out training in their Boston Marathon gear and feel immensely guilty that I have given up the fight.
However, to be honest, another part of me is quite relieved that the pressure to make the starting line is off. I need to focus on the dissertation and the baby. And Dan, if I can manage to fit him in somewhere.
Dan, shouldn't we go on a date or something?