Again
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
This morning looked like -- felt like -- spring. Misty. Dewey. Moist. The only giveaway that it was -- is -- in fact, November, was the slight twinge of cold riding the coattails of a faint breeze.
I woke at 6 a.m. It took me nearly an hour to get out of bed and dress. But it was not because I was tired. It was because of what lie ahead. And it both excited and scared me. The starting again.
By 6:50 I was lacing up my runners. This particular pair hadn't been on my feet since just after Ironman. It felt like forever ago. And they felt strange, like a borrowed pair of shoes. I felt strange, like I had borrowed somebody else's life for a handful of months -- just long enough to train for a race that covered 140.6 miles in one day -- only to have given it back.
But today wasn't about that day. It was about me doing this. Facing it. The starting again.
I waited what seemed like an eternity for my Garmin to locate its satellites. I started my long run mix on the Ipod. And I set out. I would run for 2.5 miles out, and 2.5 miles back, or...until.
Legs felt encased in concrete. Lungs burned. I plodded through one mile, then another half. Checked the Garmin. Only 9:40 miles, even though it felt like I had been pushing it. Only 1.5 miles covered, even though it felt like ten.
The conversation in my head scrolled like this:
"I feel like I've never run before. Now I know how it feels to 'take up' running. How easy I made it sound to people who were trying to start before. I'll have more emphathy next time."
"When people start running, they run-walk. You can run-walk, too. You're just starting."
"No you can't. You're an Ironman, for crying out loud! And this is not even mile two. Get some damned perspective. Suck it up."
"God this feels awful. Terrible. I want to make it stop. Walking makes it stop."
"No, keeping on makes it stop. If you keep going, every day, each day it will feel less awful. Plus, awful is how it felt at mile 21 of the Green Bay Marathon this year. Awful is how it felt when you tried to run through hip pain for most of the summer. Awful is how it felt at 8 p.m. on September 9th. This -- this is not awful. This is running."
And just then, "In a Big Country" came through my headphones.
So take that look out of here, it doesn't fit you /
Because it's happened doesn't mean you've been discarded.
Pull up your head off the floor, come up screaming /
Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted.
And I thought of the very last time I had listened to that song on a run. It was one of my last big weekday workouts before Ironman. I had already done an hour swim, and an hour bike, and I had a hour run on tap to complete the trifecta. It was hot. Humid, heavy air hot. And I was tired. End of Ironman training -- both for the day and the year -- tired. And either in my tiredness or Ironman-warped sense of what constituted a "short" versus "long" run, I decided against taking a water bottle.
And paid for it dearly. That run was miserable. Goose bumps formed on my arms -- my first surefire sign that I'm overheating. Water sounded better to me than any glass of wine, any cup of coffee, ever had before. But I had to keep going. Because Ironman was nearly upon me. And because if I couldn't pull off a measly five miles, how was I going to pull of 26.2 after swimming and biking all day?
Pull up your head off the floor, come up screaming...Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted.
Those words moved my legs. Conjured up an image of me, under lights, in the finish chute. Hearing Mike Riley tell me that I was an Ironman. Everything you ever might have wanted.
I finished that run. I finished the Ironman. But the making it easier? That's never finished, I found.
So today, I started, again. In earnest. Because I found that you can be an Ironman and a beginner all at once. Because I like the feeling that my lungs still burn and my legs still ache a bit, even as I type this hours later. And because it will, eventually, feel better.
Again.
Posted by Erin 12:32 PM
Game's not been the same without you. Welcome back.