As many of my friends and family know I have been running much more lately. Running has been in my life since I joined 7th grade track. It has gone in and out of my life all the years since 7th grade track. I ran between pregnancies, I lost weight after having babies through running, I ran a lot while mourning my father and during times of great stress in my life. It has centered me. I remember after I had my fourth child I was so overwhelmed, my oldest was not yet six, when I went running for the first time; I went to the track behind the Bronxville School and started running, and after a few laps I was crying. It was the first time I had felt like an individual in probably a year. I cried for a few minutes and kept going for another half hour or so. It was cathartic. So many times running has been cathartic.
When I was seventeen I moved from Appleton, WI to New York. That year I saw my first NYC Marathon. I did not go into the city but watched on TV with my family. I could not believe the crowds of people that were running 26.2 miles. It seemed impossible to run that far but thousands were doing it. The following year I saw the NYC Marathon in person. I saw the peoples' faces, I saw their bodies, many sizes and shapes but most very thin, and watched them in awe and began to wonder if I could do it too. Somewhere along the way between watching NYC and Boston marathons I decided that someday too I would do this. I was in my very early twenties. I have not done it yet... but I will soon.
Last weekend I ran my first half marathon, I did it in the time that I wanted to do it in. I ran the entire thing, no walking breaks. I also cried for a moment when I ran over the finish line but then smiled through my tears. I got my medal, drank a Gatorade, ate an apple and headed home, tired but so satisfied with myself. It was difficult, more so than I expected. I had not felt well the night before and did not sleep well. I had some stomach issues and a low grade fever. I took a Tylenol at 5:00 AM and slept until 7:00. When I woke up I was not sure if I would be able to run it but I got ready anyway. I figured I would go to the race and see how I felt although I knew I would probably end up running unless the fever came back or I started vomiting. Neither happened so I ran.
I used this first half marathon as my training run for the NYC Marathon next November. It is my new long run and I will have to do it again next weekend. In May fourteen miles will be my new long run, in June it will be fifteen and so on until twenty one miles. That is as far as I will go before the marathon. I will have to wing the last five miles, as most first time marathoners do. It is a tried and true training program set up by Hal Higdon and many others. I read his book on it. It is really hard work but this hard work gives me peace within myself.
I have spent so many years of my life being the wind behind my childrens' and husband's wings that I have ignored my own needs and wants. I disappeared behind his successful career and all five children. I am at a point in my life now that I can start working again but I am living in Chile. I can't work here; my Spanish is not fluent enough and I do not have the right to earn money here as a Chilean resident. I am a PTA board member and a runner. I am also the driver, cook and caretaker of my family but I was just talking about me for a moment.
So I run and run. I always know how long I will go before I start and it is often exhausting. Many times I have thought to myself, "why the hell am I doing this? I am tired, my legs hurt, I am hot, I am getting a blister," but I keep on going. I have tripped over uneven sidewalks at least five times in the last six months, hurting my hands and skinning my knees but I get up and keep going. When I am done, when I have run longer than I have before, I have accomplished something for myself. I feel proud of me, just me. Not the kids, not the husband; just me. That is profound for a woman who has spent twenty years taking care of everyone else.
Sometimes when I am running I look up and see the majestic Andes. They are spectacular, rising up everywhere, thousands and thousands of feet in the air. Nearly impossible to climb, these old, dry rocky mountains but absolutely inspirational. Extraordinarily beautiful. I count my blessings when I run and I often end up just losing track of the time and going to a happy place in my mind. Those are great moments when the blisters, heat, skinned knees and worries go away. So I run in the Andes and I dream of running over the Verrazano Bridge, through Brooklyn and Queens, down First Avenue, over to Fifth and finishing in Central Park. I dream my dream of over twenty years and I am beginning to be able to taste its sweetness. Sometimes good things come to those who wait.
When I was seventeen I moved from Appleton, WI to New York. That year I saw my first NYC Marathon. I did not go into the city but watched on TV with my family. I could not believe the crowds of people that were running 26.2 miles. It seemed impossible to run that far but thousands were doing it. The following year I saw the NYC Marathon in person. I saw the peoples' faces, I saw their bodies, many sizes and shapes but most very thin, and watched them in awe and began to wonder if I could do it too. Somewhere along the way between watching NYC and Boston marathons I decided that someday too I would do this. I was in my very early twenties. I have not done it yet... but I will soon.
Last weekend I ran my first half marathon, I did it in the time that I wanted to do it in. I ran the entire thing, no walking breaks. I also cried for a moment when I ran over the finish line but then smiled through my tears. I got my medal, drank a Gatorade, ate an apple and headed home, tired but so satisfied with myself. It was difficult, more so than I expected. I had not felt well the night before and did not sleep well. I had some stomach issues and a low grade fever. I took a Tylenol at 5:00 AM and slept until 7:00. When I woke up I was not sure if I would be able to run it but I got ready anyway. I figured I would go to the race and see how I felt although I knew I would probably end up running unless the fever came back or I started vomiting. Neither happened so I ran.
I used this first half marathon as my training run for the NYC Marathon next November. It is my new long run and I will have to do it again next weekend. In May fourteen miles will be my new long run, in June it will be fifteen and so on until twenty one miles. That is as far as I will go before the marathon. I will have to wing the last five miles, as most first time marathoners do. It is a tried and true training program set up by Hal Higdon and many others. I read his book on it. It is really hard work but this hard work gives me peace within myself.
I have spent so many years of my life being the wind behind my childrens' and husband's wings that I have ignored my own needs and wants. I disappeared behind his successful career and all five children. I am at a point in my life now that I can start working again but I am living in Chile. I can't work here; my Spanish is not fluent enough and I do not have the right to earn money here as a Chilean resident. I am a PTA board member and a runner. I am also the driver, cook and caretaker of my family but I was just talking about me for a moment.
So I run and run. I always know how long I will go before I start and it is often exhausting. Many times I have thought to myself, "why the hell am I doing this? I am tired, my legs hurt, I am hot, I am getting a blister," but I keep on going. I have tripped over uneven sidewalks at least five times in the last six months, hurting my hands and skinning my knees but I get up and keep going. When I am done, when I have run longer than I have before, I have accomplished something for myself. I feel proud of me, just me. Not the kids, not the husband; just me. That is profound for a woman who has spent twenty years taking care of everyone else.
Sometimes when I am running I look up and see the majestic Andes. They are spectacular, rising up everywhere, thousands and thousands of feet in the air. Nearly impossible to climb, these old, dry rocky mountains but absolutely inspirational. Extraordinarily beautiful. I count my blessings when I run and I often end up just losing track of the time and going to a happy place in my mind. Those are great moments when the blisters, heat, skinned knees and worries go away. So I run in the Andes and I dream of running over the Verrazano Bridge, through Brooklyn and Queens, down First Avenue, over to Fifth and finishing in Central Park. I dream my dream of over twenty years and I am beginning to be able to taste its sweetness. Sometimes good things come to those who wait.
