twenty four months ago i gave birth to our son. eight months ago i brought our daughter into the world. seven months ago i started training. and in five days i am running the new jersey marathon.
while i am confident i will not be among the fastest pounding the pavement of the jersey shore on race day, i am more than sure i will be one of the gutsiest.
today was the longest of my marathon training runs. this week and in particular this run have been glaring up at me from my training calendar for the last six months.
i ran sixteen of the slowest miles any human being has ever traveled on friday. by the time i crossed the threshold into my house i was utterly defeated. my pace is no where near where it once was.
But once a month, every month, for the last eight months, my heart has broken. Every negative pregnancy test has shattered me and each time a well-intentioned person asks, “and when are you going to have a baby?” my heart blisters as I respond, “soon I hope.”
the door to the gym where i get my fitness on boasts a sign which brilliantly states: “because today is another chance to get it right.” this quote greeted me upon my first visit to the gym and has since served as a daily reminder to throw all my effort into each workout. as the days rolled on into a new year i began turning those words over in my head.
adulthood, for me, began the moment when instead of ignoring the voice between my ears, i shut my mouth, opened my ears, and listened with my head and my heart.
i can feel it coming. like i always do. slowly. quietly. softly. gaining speed and building momentum. growing. ignore it and it isn’t real. but it grows. until it is too big to ignore. too big to overcome.
i am my best when i am training in the cold and i refuse to let this fall and winter season pass me by while i sit indoors. i will feel cool air moving in and out of my lungs. i will watch pink december sunsets as i turn over mile after mile.