The first long run

You never know how the first long run after a marathon will be. It's either gloriously pain free and lovely or it's not.

My body seems to have recovered from the marathon quite well and I attribute that to the hilly terrain and running slow. However, on my first and second run after the marathon, my legs felt tight. Not painful, not sore. Just tight. I admit I was surprised, but you just never know exactly how long it will take to heal.

So on Sunday, I felt some trepidation about my "long" run. I decided on six miles because it seemed like a nice number. An hour of running. The distance of the first long run for a novice marathon training program. I can handle that.

I spent that hour running with Mike talking about work and politics. The sun was warm, the sky clear, the roads not too busy. My legs didn't protest one bit. It was wonderful.

First timer to Khory's

On Wednesday, I found myself running in weather quite similar to the MDI marathon--windy and cold. An easy 3.37 miles around Fresh Pond in Cambridge. It was one of those days I was thankful to be a runner. Everything was effortless.

Yesterday, I ran Khory's 4.13 miler in Somerville for the first time. I was feeling lazy in the afternoon so I didn't run and I called Mike to ask him if he'd like to run Khory's with me. Of course I wasn't asking, but rather telling him what we would do that evening.

Khory's is an informal "race"/social run with the Somerville Road Runners and other like-minded people. I checked out the website beforehand and I admit I was intimidated by all the fast runners. Fast to me is anything more than a 9:50 pace. I like to take in all the scenery with my standard 10 minute miles. Well, the slowest women finish in 37/38 minutes. I knew I would most likely be the last person, so I wanted Mike to run with me so I wouldn't get lost on the roads.

The race started at Khory's State Spa, otherwise known as a bar, and after about a half a mile headed up Winter Hill. I live on top of Winter Hill so I'm used to running it, but I run up the opposite side. My side is steeper and shorter and the other side is much longer, but less steep. I made it up and over without too much complaint and picked up the pace a bit on the downhill. After the hill ended, I managed to maintain the pace with minimal effort. We ran mostly on the roads, but we were forced onto the sidewalks when a fire engine came screaming down the street. Another couple of quick turns and we were on Broadway again. I wanted to pick up the pace a little towards the end, but I didn't quite recognize where we were. So when I started thinking about running faster, I was already at the finish line. Oh well. The best part of the night was when they read off my time (I wasn't wearing a watch). 38:06 for an average pace of 9:14.

I survived Mount Desert Island

I finished my eighth marathon. 4:23:30. It was hilly, windy, and wet. I almost froze at mile 19. I didn't find Mitch until mile 22 and it was fabulous to have someone to run the last 4.2 miles with me. When I crossed the finish line, I had a glorious smile on my face. It was wonderful to finally return to marathoning after a year and a half. Now I remember why I love to run.

Oh no!

How can I be getting sick now? Doesn't my body know it has to run a marathon on Sunday? The cruelty of marathon training is you never know what happens on race day. It doesn't matter that you've been training for four and a half months. The body says enough is enough. I'm going to break down now. And the worst part is I'm dying to go out for a run. I know I shouldn't, but my body wants to get outside. I'm longing to break out in a sweat. To run Winter Hill. Why does the mind tempt me with such things?

Taper madness.

A brief history

My life as a runner began my freshman year in high school. I joined the cross country and track team because my best friend was a member and we could leave school early on Wednesdays. I never ran in any Saturday meets because I was also involved in 4-H and my weekends were filled with horse and lamb shows or rodeos.

And then college began and I didn't find much time for running. Every so often I would run 3 or 4 miles, but I was never dedicated. However, during my last semester in college, I came to Boston to visit my boyfriend. I was going to meet him after work in Copley Square and it just happened to be during the Boston Marathon. I stood and watched the four, five, and six hour marathoners stream by and cross a newly painted thick yellow line. I wanted to run a marathon.

After graduation I moved to Boston and watched the marathon again. Except this time I laced up my shoes and started running that day. I ran around the Charles River and Winter Hill. I ran through the streets of Boston to Brookline. I ran until the next Boston Marathon. Yet again I watched the runners until the sky was dark and my hands stung from clapping. And this time I made up my mind that I really would run a marathon.

A couple of months later, I found a small, flat marathon that promised peak fall foliage along the Merrimack River and I was sold. A year later that same marathon would give me my Boston Qualifying time.

And now seven marathons later and a year and a half break, I'm getting ready to toe the line in five days. The goals are not great--I just want to finish. But I also want to find my love for marathons again.