A Little Crazy

There are days where I think to myself, "what would I honestly do if I didn't have running?" Today was fortunately one of those days.

It was perfect conditions for a run in the middle of December. The roads were clear, therefore no worries about slipping and breaking a leg or ankle on the ice. The temperature was just above freezing. With no wind, this made it feel a lot warmer. Only five minutes into the run and I was ready to take off my headband.

I ran solo. And by solo I mean just myself and my stopwatch. No, I didn't even bring my Ipod along. The battery was near dead and I didn't feel like having to take off my right glove every time I wanted to change songs or adjust the volume (it's an ipod touch). The only sounds that accompanied me were the squishes from my shoes and my own breathing.

It was fantastic.

I told a twitter friend that my favorite runs are the simple runs in my hometown, especially in my own neighborhood. Today I remembered how true that really is. I'm not quite sure why that is. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I started running here. That this is where I discovered my love for the sport. Along these streets is where I laughed with friends, pushed the limits of my body, and learned to deal with any problem that came my way. This is where I became a runner.

If you know me you would think this all has to do with memories and nostalgia and so forth. And it does, but when I go for runs in my neighborhood I don't think about old cross-country workouts and memories don't flood my mind. In fact, on the contrary, I rarely think about the past when I run. I enjoy running on these streets today as much as I did when I was surrounded by teammates. My pace has gotten slower, but I am feeling better. In fact I think I have a much better relationship with running than I did when I was my fastest. I no longer cry at the end of workouts when I feel I didn't do my best and I no longer read Runner's World as if it were the bible. Running isn't something that brings any amount of stress to me anymore. Instead it's what brings me a great sense of joy.

I have been searching for the perfect balance with running since my final 3200 race at the District's meet back in May 2008. My hope for this next semester is that I will accomplish that.

This next semester I am hoping to accomplish what several of my running friends have beaten me to: the 26.2 miles of pain, anguish, and accomplishment, also known as the marathon.

What made me decide that I was going to a run a marathon is something that's beyond me. What I tell people is that I had made a promise back in the beginning of my first year of college to my to-be boyfriend that by the time I graduated I will have a run a marathon. Truth is I'm not sure if I ever really made that promise or if I made that up. My boyfriend doesn't remember, so I have no one but myself to hold accountable. What probably happened is that at the time I decided that on a whim without giving it much thought. Much like my final decision to actually run it.

I think the real reason is that I have seen so many of my friends run marathons, and, here's the key word, they enjoyed it, and so I want to take part in that enjoyment myself. I had a friend run the International Marathon, a race that starts in America and goes into Canada past Niagara Falls in the fall of 2009. I was incredibly impressed that on his own he was able to train and run it. He said he would do it and he did. Another friend ran Grandma's Marathon in Minnesota with her dad. Another friend, who didn't think she'd be able to run the marathon due to injury, ran the Dayton Marathon and qualified for Boston. She and another friend will be running the Boston this spring.

The list goes on. My dad ran the Flying Pig, my boyfriend ran the Tecumseh Marathon when he was 16, and my professor and another friend also took on the trail marathon despite snow and freezing temps just recently. It seems almost everyone in my little running circle has pushed through the grueling 26.2 miles. Except me.

And so here I am. Bored with 5ks, no chance of racing in the 3200 (as far as I know at least) and looking for something to challenge me and keep my love of running alive. The marathon sounds perfect.

I have no PRs for the marathon so there's no stress about setting one. I would like to break 4 hours but I'm not sweating it if I don't. My ultimate goal is to just run this thing without dying and run it at a comfortable but challenging pace. What I would really like to do is to cross the finish line with a smile on my face and think, "That was fun. Can't wait to do it again." That's right, I expect hours of running to be fun. Because running is fun. And I mean that.

I think this is where the whole, "You're crazy" thing comes into play. And I never disagree. Runners are crazy. It is crazy to wake up at 5am to go for a 20 miler. It is crazy to lace up your shoes and go out in the middle of a freezing rain. We're crazy masochists. But we need it. I need it. In a way that I can't even explain. I'm a runner. I need running. I need it to survive, even if it means being a little crazy.