Gosh, I haven’t written here in so long I feel like a complete stranger to my own blog.
I’ve been exhausted.
My weekly training mileage is getting extremely challenging; to find the time is maybe more difficult than finding the energy. A 4:30 alarm is about the earliest I can stomach, and even that doesn’t always leave me room to get to work on time. It’s dark. It’s getting chilly. And 4:30 is fucking early no matter what time you go to bed.
But every two weeks I’m surprising myself with new records, and as trashed as my body feels at times, I’ve never felt stronger in my life. It’s a journey, full of adventure and lessons and doubts and exhilaration and… Love. Race day will almost be a let-down at this point, because it will mark the end of my trip. Well… this trip.
It’s all relative, I remind myself constantly. I have certain friends who run my weekly miles for breakfast. But this isn’t about them. It’s all about me. My legs. My lungs. My pace. My fears. My stubborn determination. My open heart. My lessons.
All the parts of my life melt together into the run. The can’t-go-another-step part, the my-god-I’m-a-fucking-badass part, the finally-feel-loved part, and the what’s-going-to-happen-in-the-next-mile part. And I just keep going, with relentless forward motion, until it’s time to stop. And so it goes. Mile after mile. Life after life. Love after fear.