this and that

 

 i love that time when i'm training for something.  i love testing my limits, having a goal, working hard, following a carefully laid out plan, structuring around that plan.  that time takes up about half of the year, so i must love it.  and i do.  i really do.

 



 

but this?  i love this, too.

not having a plan.  not having a goal.  not working quite so hard.

leaving for a run without knowing just how far i'll actually go, and paying attention to my watch only to be sure i'm back home in enough time to slice some apples and bake some scones before the football game starts...

and put soup fixings in the crock pot...

and settle in for the afternoon with a book and some cocoa.

this is the other half of the year. 

the half that still involves the running that i love, but without all the rules of that half of the year.

this is the half that is more concerned with sweaters and scarves, tea and cocoa and coffee,  cookies and fudge (i am dreaming about the fudge...) , curling up under blankets with a book or a movie.

this is the half that is more about resting and relaxing.

that?

that is really great.

but this?

this rocks.


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and the adventure continues

it was the kind of weekend you spend four months praying for.

cool temperatures, (mostly) clear skies, beautiful colors.

i called it an adventure.  staying someplace out of the ordinary, seeing lovely sights, eating amazing food, hanging out with hubby, and going for a run.  the best kind of adventure.  i hoped it would be wonderful.

i was worried.  worried that the creaky knees just didn't have this in them. 
i was (slightly) upset.  upset that i would not be meeting the goal i had originally set for myself.
i was nervous.  because i always am.

i was excited.  i love staying in hotels.
i was excited.  i love races.
i was excited.  i was ready for some time away.

i might have cried a little bit at packet pick up.
i kind of expected that.

but the tears didn't last long.

i had some running to do.

it was, as the saying goes, half the distance and twice the fun.
despite the creakiness.  and the swelling.  and more than a little pain.
fun.
and inspiring. ( as always. )
and wonderful.  of course.

how could it not be?

this was the first thing i saw when we arrived.

                                             (standing on the bridge, looking into the river.  love.)

stride on.



ps - the title is how the race director closes every email he sends before the race.  i think that's awesome.


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that time

it's getting to be that time.

that time where maximum capacity is reached.

where there are officially not enough hours in the day to do all that needs to be done; not enough days in the week to catch up.

that time where i just want to find a cave, crawl in, and not come out.  ever.

the load at work is more of an overload.

home is that place filled with clutter, where i eat breakfast and sleep at night, but not much else.

goal race (version 2.0) looms just ahead, and i am achy and tired and tired and tired.

thanks to the overzealous retail machine, i can even already see the holidays peering over the horizon. (seriously?!)

and that cave, up in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere?

it looks mighty inviting.

but.

just around the corner there is a respite.

there is a break.

fall break.

time to rest, relax, recharge.

time to ease up.

and then...

that period of time where the big decisions include whether to make tea or cocoa this afternoon.  or both.

weekends filled with sleeping in and comfort food.

running races without a goal time; just the goal of having a good time (the kind that is not measured by the clock).

picking a warm sweater to ward off the cool temperature.

"falling back."

and i am ready.

so so ready.


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light up, light up

a lovely girl i know ran the chicago marathon on sunday.  it was her first marathon.

she started running a few years back and gradually worked her way up through the various race distances out there.  and this year she decided to take on a marathon.

and she is adorable.

she runs with such joy.  her enthusiasm is tangible.

i followed her facebook updates as she ran in chicago, giving her a stride on for each update, knowing she wouldn't see them until it was all over.

and when it was all over?  webster's could use her finish line photo for the definition of "happiness."

i admire the hell out of her.  she runs for the love of it, for the fun of it.  she's not afraid of sharing her experience with the world, putting it out there for all to see.  she does not care what the numbers on the clock read, because she know that what the numbers on the clock say is "i rocked that race!"

as she covered those 26.2 miles she reminded me of so many things.  and she taught me so much more.

i was supposed to run a marathon in two weeks.

but i won't be running a marathon in two weeks. 

i knew when i registered, back in june, that there was every possibility that this would happen.  but i registered anyway.

i've worked all summer, and all fall.  i've done everything i was supposed to do.  everything the doctor told me to do (and didn't do what he told me not to do).  i'm in the best shape i've ever been in.

but the doctor, and my knees, and my common sense all told me that it's just not possible this year.

maybe next year.  but not this year.

so i contacted the race director and transferred to a shorter distance.  and i backed way way way off of my miles.

a relative asked this week about my running and my race plans for the fall.  so i told her.  it was the first time i'd told anyone (besides my crew, of course) about any part of the plan.

her response?

"that is so brave of you."

then someone else asked her a question, so she didn't see me start to cry.

this is not something people tend to say to me.

usually i get the people who somehow think that i am less because the distance i run is less than it used to be, or the time that it takes me to run the distance is more than it used to be.

(because those people are there.  and they insist on making there presence known.  i don't know why.)

but they don't really know me at all.

i love to run. plain and simple.

i wanted to run another marathon. because i love to run.

and i will not be running that marathon. because i love to run.

because the goal is not to run one more marathon. the goal is to keep on running.

and i plan to keep on running. for as long as i can.



stride on.



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time for time

it's that time of year again.  that time where there is no time.  

hubby's and my schedules are... not really conflicting.  just not in sync. 

we see each other in passing.  tell quick anecdotes (or have quick venting sessions) about the day.  then say good-bye.  or good night.  day in and day out.

the only time we have to really see each other is on the weekend.  and that is filled with  all the weekend stuff - grocery and cleaning and laundry and football and long runs and on and on.

we're not sitting in a romantic cafe sipping lattes and gazing romantically into  each other's eyes, sharing profound insights on life.

unless you count rolling our eyes at the foolishness of our fellow shoppers or discussing whether the peanut butter we like is cheaper at target or wal-mart.

it can get old.  it does get old.

so sometimes we have to not do that.  sometimes we have to go somewhere else.  just for fun.  just for us.

we have to make time.

we did that this past weekend.  shirked responsibility in the name of time.

we wandered around the orchard.  ate still warm doughnuts and honeycrisp apples.  sang along with a (fairly decent) cover band.  discussed barn architecture.  reminisced about the wedding reception we'd attended there a few years ago.

there was even a latte involved.

we still got all of the weekend stuff done.  maybe a little later than usual.  maybe a little longer than usual.  maybe a little more tired than usual.

and we maybe learned that 7:00 p.m. is too late for the aged (a.k.a. us) to be eating giant caramel apples.

but still.

we made time.

for us.

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