I’m at the phase of marathon training where I am equally excited and burnt out from training.
I’m so excited for the actual marathon and all the hoopla of the week before–carb loading! meetups! the expo!–but the idea of actually going out and running somewhere between five to eight miles right now? Welcome to snoozeville, population, 1.
In the beginning of marathon training, I had a hard time getting motivated to run because I knew I had months and months to go and that those first 6- and 7-milers didn’t mean as much as the really long runs I’d end up doing. Well, now that I’m tapering, I keep hearing “you’ve done all the work, what matters now is rest.”
Um, rest? I can do that.
I-don’t-want-to-run eyebrow raising.
Pulled pork at “book club” last night? (Quotation marks because we discussed the book, Girls in White Dresses, for approximately 2 minutes.) Far more exciting than a mid-distance run.
I should have just run as soon as I woke up this morning, but I put it off for hours and hours and finally went out this afternoon for five miles.
I tried to psyche myself up by wearing my marathon shirt. (Brooks EZ T II, the plain version of the I <3 Sweat one.)
And looking at the beautiful blue sky. And listening to Pumped Up Kicks on repeat.
When I started, I really didn’t want to be running, but I kept thinking of positive mantras:
- one day you will not be able to to this–today is not that day
- if it were easy, everyone would be doing it.
- no matter how many miles you run, that’s that many more than you would have run sitting on the couch. (Must figure out how to run on couch.)
I was aiming for this to be a relatively easy-paced run, but I ended up running 5 miles at an 8:52 pace out of frustration.
Maybe I need to find something to frustrate me on marathon day.