Image by MaxWdhs from Pixabay
"If you can't play sports, run. If you can't run, run long."
-Author unknown
This image reminds me of my favorite poster from college (do people still buy posters to tack on their dorm room walls?). The top half showed a long, paved road stretching out into the distance and a caption that read: "My gym." Underneath was a second image of a thoroughly worn out pair of running shoes that said: "My dues." That pretty well summed up my running philosophy in the eighties, when I was running to stay fit in college, in the nineties, when I started running marathons and half marathons, and even now, when I'm just a backslidden hack who is trying to find a path back to the path to find that experience again. The beauty of running for me has always been that it doesn't require interaction with another person or any special equipment other than my shoes (which these days are exclusively Five Fingers). Even in an event, we are all just running our own race with no interpersonal skills required.
Although it's been a minute since I was able to maintain any consistent weekly mileage (ie, I haven't run since September 1st of last year), today I signed up for the first race of the season, the "Shamrock Shuffle," on March 12th. The options were 5k, 10k, or half marathon. So, full disclosure I am a person of extremes. It is psychologically impossible for me to sign up for a run and register for the 5k. Honestly, it is still difficult for me to check the "half marathon" box because even that feels like mailing it in. But even in my current obsessive state, I cannot entertain a fantasy of going from a dead stop (my current training status) to a half marathon in 29 days. So 10k it is and I still have my work cut out for me.
The good news is that I now get to pick out my race t-shirt (not the one they give me, the one I will choose for its Irish theme that makes me easily identifiable to anyone who wants to cheer me on). The bad news is that I have to start training in the winter cold (but I have running pants and a wool cap on order from Patagonia so hopefully I will survive while I acclimate). Will this be a hero's journey or just another sad, Irish story? We'll find out together on March 12th.
Time to start paying my dues.
