I should have written in this more, maybe a running journal is a little bit too self centered, but now I look back on it and see that I had my first 11 mile run and that was my last entry. Well, since then, I'm pretty happy to say that I kept running. I ran in the cold and in the snow and in the rain. I ran in the red clay mud that was this year's GWTC 30k. I ran every single Saturday morning. I started at the 10 mile challenge, worked my way up to 20 miles, and now I'm in the two week hell they call tapering. When you go from running 45+ miles a week to half that, and then a quarter! Jesus H. it can bring a girl down. I want to run so bad it hurts, I want to lace 'em up and push it to it's limit, just like I've been doing for the past 4 months. Six miles on a wednesday just isn't the same. I want to run so hard that I throw up, I want to hit the wall. Maybe that's what the taper is, it's a time where you get to sit back relax and let your body rest as your mind goes bananas. A week from tomorrow I'll get my chance. 26.2 miles never looked so good. I just want to run again. And when it's over, I'm not going to stop. There will be more marathons, and more miles, and more hill repeats. I've loved every last second of this training period. I've embraced every Friday night at home, every time I had to say "no thanks, I can't have that glass of wine, I'm training tomorrow morning", every t-shirt from every race I never thought I could complete.
Last February, when I was working at Bella, a man came in with his family and sat at table 5. He ordered spaghetti, she had a glass of wine, but he didn't. I don't remember asking him, but he told me that he was here from Georgia to run the marathon. Now I look back on it and think that he probably couldn't help but tell me, it was probably all he was thinking about. Either way, I stood back and thought, I'm going to do that. I'm going to run the marathon next year. And next week end, I'm going to fucking do it.