WE WERE ON A BREAK!

Now is the time for guts and guile, or else just an executive decision on running the marathon in three weeks.

I'm not ready, physically or mentally. I haven't been training for the past month--there were mitigating circumstances (new job, new schedule, new boyfriend, too much dining out and drinking wine), sure, but I'm disappointed in myself. But it reiterates how much I still live my life for others--I can get over not running RVM because I know I'll run a marathon at some point, but there's something that bothers me about having to tell other people I'm not doing it.

Or more specifically, telling people I know that I'm not doing it.

I was at the bank the other day and the teller asked me if I run at the Running Room. I didn't really recognize him, but I said I used to, but that I'd started running alone. He said he'd been training for the same marathon I am, but he'd been sidelined with an IT band injury.

I was surprised at how comfortable I felt telling him that I'd burned out on training. I mentioned that I'd probably would try training with a clinic again, although I explained I wasn't sure I could recreate the "magic" of my first clinic. He said he'd the exact same feeling and that it's true, the first clinic is something special.

It was nice to be able to talk to someone who was going through something sort of similar--even though his reasons are medical, mine are also legitimate. It reminded me that I'm a human, not a running machine, and this doesn't speak to my worth, dedication or discipline.

Still, this morning, I wasn't even an hour into my long run before I gave into my lethargy, boredom, and migraine headache. I felt like a failure, especially being on the Seawall, surrounded by super-fit runners.

I sat on a bench at English Bay and thought about why I'd lost motivation for running. When it comes down to it, it's because I'm tired of the same routines and routes. There isn't a whole lot I can do about that (the city is only so big and routines are developed for a reason), but I thought that maybe running and I need to see other people for awhile. I need to find something else to do that I'm excited about right now because it doesn't make sense to force myself to do something that doesn't excite me and then beat myself up for not being excited about it.

I know I'll go back to running at some point--because I've been in this place before and I always go back to it. I'm a runner for life, and not running this particular long run or even this particular marathon doesn't change that.

So, to be clear: RVM is still up in the air. It's probably best not to do it, but I may just go for the experience and to say I gave it a shot. There's going to be a next time, anyway.

Commitment

I just registered for the full Royal Victoria Marathon. The reason I always register early for these things is that I need that financial commitment as a training incentive. But I also rationalize that it's only $80, so I could still flake out without too much lost.

I'm scared, though. Hold me!

The loneliness of the mid-distance runner

I haven't really told anyone about this besides my sister, but I guess I can make my intentions known to people who don't see me on a daily basis. I'm going to do a full marathon this year, I've decided. This came about after last weekend, when I sort of accidentally ran the longest distance I'd ever run (24.5 km, exceeding my half-marathon distance). I was having a good time, so I thought I'd see how far I could go.

I did the same today to see if it was a one-off thing, but I got up to 26 km, including a momentary entry into the Harry's 8K Spring Run-Off for Prostate Cancer. I was happily going along at my leisurely Sunday running pace when a guy on a bike came up alongside me (which was odd in and of itself because there's a separate bike path in Stanley Park and the division is VERY STRICTLY adhered to).

"Hey Turkey Trotter," he called out (referring to the race shirt I was wearing), "the racers are coming."

So I kept to the right and then this pack of elite runners in tiny shorts came barreling past me. Then I came upon a group of spectators, who weren't quite sure whether they should be cheering for me because I was clearly not in the same league as the Kenyan runner in front of me. I thought I was doing a fairly good job of staying out of the way until suddenly the finish line was 100 metres ahead of me. I actually had to go out of my way to avoid crossing it--I thought it would be in poor taste to do so--and nearly took out some hapless spectators. According to the race clock, I had completed the 8K in 25 minutes. You know, if I had actually started with the rest of them. Awesome!

It's actually pretty common to inadvertently become a part of one race or another along the Seawall. It's happened to me before, but I've never literally had an entire race blow past me within a few minutes.

Anyway, I'm thinking of doing the Royal Victoria Marathon this October. There's also the Okanagan International Marathon that same weekend, and while it would be awesome to run through wine country, I was in Kelowna this summer and don't really want to be cramped in the car for several hours the day before a race, so capital-city Victoria it is.

I'm sort of trying not to make a big deal about the full marathon thing, though, in hopes of avoiding psyching myself out and remaining modest. I was at MEC yesterday buying some gels and the snowboarderish cashier was all, "So how long is a long run for you?" and when I replied, "Oh, about 25K," not thinking it would be particularly impressive to someone who works in a store full of extreme-sport enthusiasts, but he sort of just stared at me wide-eyed for a few seconds.

That is exactly the sort of reaction I want to avoid, and so I will probably not speak too much of it again to people until I've fully committed and it's difficult to hide that all I do in my free time is train. I'll probably do a clinic for the extra support. I passed two of my former clinic buddies on the Seawall today and it did make me miss the camaraderie a little, but I'm really rediscovering the joy of running alone right now.