At this time last year, I was packing for the Space Coast Marathon. I was full of turkey and pie, but I had eaten in moderation. I had the specter of my first marathon looming over my head; it wasn't necessarily a bad kind of looming, but it was unavoidable.
With BDR just around the corner, I've found myself thinking about how my training last year - and my anticipation of my first marathon - was so vastly different than this year's cycle.
Last year...
...I was in constant awe of myself as I hit new milestones, which I now realize was borne of a tiny seed of self-doubt.
...I surprised myself when I realized I could run twenty miles. That run solidified for me that I could run a marathon, and that I would. In a way, training successfully was the greatest accomplishment; the marathon was big, but getting there was bigger.
...My highest mileage month was 79, and that was during the final month of training; I didn't taper properly because I got sick a couple weeks before race day, so my last long run was that enlightening 20 miles mentioned above.
...The moment of clarity - when I knew I'd definitely complete Space Coast and become a marathoner - was like an explosion bursting; this year's has been a steady, warm candle that refuses to go out.
This year...
...I went into training knowing what I'm capable of and feeling confident I would succeed from day one.
...I didn't feel any doubt. It took me awhile to get into the swing of things, and I leaned pretty heavily on Kristin and my virtual buddies to get me going after Archie passed, but there was never a moment that I thought I wouldn't run BDR.
...My 100 mile month in October gave me the confidence and energy I needed to continue building until taper, and then to taper correctly. I've done two 18-milers and one 20-miler, and I did two of those three very-long-runs alone. (The second 18-miler, which I did with Kristin as part of the Fort Myers Half, was actually closer to 19.7 miles.)
...I know I'm slower, but I'm also more consistent.
...I feel calm and certain.
I do think marathon training changes you. Tackling training for weeks on end, building mileage, conquering fear...it all builds a kind of quiet confidence. I don't feel invincible or superior in any way, but I feel like I know myself. I know how I react under pressure, under stress, when I'm in pain, when I'm doubting myself. And I now know how to handle myself in those situations.
My internal dialogue has changed. "I don't know if I can" has changed to "I will." This shift was subtle and happened in stages, but even in my darkest moments, the feeling of inevitability is there. It's very powerful and cannot be argued with. It's certain. I will.
How has training for long distance races changed you? What lessons have you learned from running this past year? ABK
I've been planning my running tattoo for well over a year, but it wasn't until Christmas when I started to get really serious about it. Once I decided to get it as a gift, instead of just shelling out the cash for no reason, it was easier to wrap my mind around it.
I wanted a tattoo that could be running-related but would also be relevant otherwise...something that encompassed both my running story and my vision for my life. I wanted something meaningful to me, romantic but not sappy, not trite or overdone. (Can you tell I was a tattoo newbie? If I had known how much of a non-issue it would turn out to be, I don't know if I would have chewed on it for so long.)
Sometime last year, I finally chose a quotation from an essay-turned-song written by Mary Schmich, which I play for my students every year as they prepare to leave the small pond of middle school for the high school ocean. It has always resonated with me; it's a lesson that speaks to the runner in me while also illuminating a much bigger picture.
A few weeks ago, Kristin (from Ragnar) took me to her tattoo artist so I could check the place out and make an appointment, which we set for March 4.
So, Tuesday rolls around and I'm not the least bit nervous. In fact, all I felt was moderate excitement of the "finally!" kind. I'd been waiting for this for so long that I didn't even really have butterflies! It just felt right.
No, I'm not white-knuckled; my hands were loosely clasped here, I swear.
I was only in the chair for about 15 minutes. Charlie was professional, fast, and efficient. Actually, it didn't hurt at all! (I made the mistake of asking, "Is this it? Is it even in?", a comment which Matt, Kristin, and Charlie found pretty hysterical.)
It's coming along!
This is my first-ever tattoo. It felt like I was being bitten by a mosquito. It only turned into a "bee sting" kind of pain when the needle came close to my bone. Still, I didn't even break a sweat.
All done!
I'm really happy with the results. In a way, I feel like I've had the tattoo forever, maybe because I've been planning it for so long. It doesn't seem like some weird, foreign writing on my body, which I was afraid it might.
Archie approves!
I can't wait for it to heal completely so I can put sunscreen on it and wear tank tops again when I run. For now, it has to stay out of the sun completely, which means it won't make its race debut until April. It will have to be covered for my 5k this weekend.
But I know it will give me an extra boost internally on race day; it will be there always, reminding me of how far I've come, how far I have to go, and that this race - and every race I run - is mine, and I should run it accordingly.
Do you have, or would you get, a tattoo? Is it running-related?
