Running has taught me many things. First, and foremost, plan ahead. You never know what the weather, your stomach or your mind is going to do until you’re actually out there in the middle of it all. You need to be ready.
That said, it’s also taught me to change plans. I’ve learned how to be okay with six miles instead of ten or twelve instead of four. I listen to my body now. Mostly. The knee injury that plagued me over the summer is now gone (hear that? That’s the sound of me knocking on wood.) and I can run again. Obviously, I’m thankful. I’m not shattering any land speed records here, I’m just happy running isn’t trying to break up with me anymore. But there’s still a little sting there.
On Sunday, October 22, 2006, I was supposed to run the Chicago Marathon for the first time. It was a long, hard decision to give this one up. I wanted it badly, but my knee had other plans. Since there were days in the Just Run Knee Injury ‘06 saga in which I couldn’t even walk without pain, I know it was the right decision. It was safe, and logical, and smart. But it still bums me out.
On Sunday, I’ll be running sixteen miles. Yes, I know, nothing to scoff at. But it’s not a marathon, it’s not in Chicago and I’m not going to wake up on Monday, October 23, 2006 with the ability to say “I just ran 26 miles on the last day I was 26.” And that sort of sucks. Because that was the plan, and also some of the motivation.
But I know I have a choice on Sunday, still. I know that I can wake up in the morning, go about my day, run sixteen miles and feel just as good about Monday. And 27.
Afterall, it was only a couple months ago when I could do nothing at all.
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Good luck to all of you running on Sunday. I hope, pray, and cross fingers that it’s a great race for you, all 26.2 of it.
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