I'm going to buy a taco and maybe a dress and maybe a manicure and ride my bike and sit outside and read and nap and then go out to dinner and then to a bar and then have some banana pudding that my roommate is making for me because it is my birthday dammit and I deserve all of that.
I woke up at 4.45 yesterday. Dressed, ate some oatmeal, and stretched. My roommate and I left the house at 5.40 and got on the bus headed to Fairmount Park West, where the race started. We met up with our classmate who was running with me, stretched, and at 7 am exactly were off. After two minutes of running she turned to me and said, “It’s like breathing water!” The high was supposed to be 90 degrees.
I did the Broad Street Run, which is ten miles, in 1’25” without stopping ever or even slowing down. By about mile 3 yesterday I had to stop and walk. I kept trying to make myself slow down, but somehow that’s harder than it sounds. My legs were tired and I couldn’t keep my breath in a steady rhythm. Around mile 6 the course turns around and heads back in the direction it came from. My friend and I passed each other and seeing her gave me a boost to push through. Running faster actually helped some.
At mile 7.5 they had the first Gatorade station. And that’s where things get fuzzy.
Key to my training this go-round has been accepting the fact that what with working full time and going to physical theatre school full time, some days it was more important to skip my run than to go on it. Training this time has been a lot harder than for the last two. Tired legs. Tired body. No fucking time. So I’ve tried hard this time to be good to my body—lots of yoga and massages and hot hot hot epsom salt baths.
The other key to my training this time was that I gave up the sauce. I’m not quite sure how I’ve stayed sane over the past 7 weeks. Honestly, the main driver for me tomorrow will be the free drink I get at the finish line.
So send me some good vibes tomorrow at 7 am. And know that by 10 am I will be wasted off half a beer.