cold turkey

No race tomorrow for me. The opportunity to not run like a maniac in the frigid early morning proved too enticing to pass up. So nothing on the schedule tomorrow beyond a lot of resting, chatting, and eating.

Though I have no real desire to be running outside at this point, I do miss the exercise. The prospect of not running again until springtime is fairly daunting. I may need to forage for treadmills.

this'll be on my videotape

Having some time and distance from the race (well over a month now, yikes), it's probably worth looking back and sharing some reflections on my marathon summer.

Even though not that much time has passed, I am finding that my memories have already started to acquire the typical rosy hue of the past. My weekly Saturday runs used to leave me aching and exhausted, but I now remember them wistfully. I know intellectually that there were times of pain, but it is difficult for me to think of these workouts as anything but steady, assured jaunts along the streets of Greater Cleveland.

And if the painful parts have been mentally de-fanged, how much more the pleasant ones...

I had a good chat with Tom recently about music and its ability to transport one to an earlier time. Music is definitely woven into the fabric of this summer. I will retain a particular fondness for many of the songs on my running playlist, with special places of honor reserved for Death and All His Friends and Welcome to the Black Parade (for their ability to conjure specific moments of my summer training).

Did I learn anything?

Well, I think I can chalk up trust and dependence as good lessons. As I consider the story of the Exodus, I get the sense that if I were among the Israelites, I would have definitely been one of the ones attempting to collect enough manna for several days, only to have the balance spoil overnight. I like to prepare for things, maybe too much sometimes. So it was a beneficial exercise (oh yes, I can rock a bad pun) for me to engage in an endeavor like this, where the progress was continuous yet almost imperceptible. I couldn't train enough to ready myself for the race in a single day, a week, or even a month. I had to go step by step, taking each day and each run for what it was, trusting that over the course of the summer my body would be made into a marathon-ready machine. I think life is like this.

What did I gain from the experience?

I remember during the Olympics watching a feature on Michael Phelps. The swimmer. After winning his first gold medal in Athens, he found his mom and sisters in the crowd and showed them his prize, saying, "look what I did!" That story and quote have stuck with me since then because, in a sense, I felt like that was my summer's exclamation to the God who gave me a runner's frame. If running provides me an opportunity to truly be myself, then I spent lot of time in a good place this summer. I almost look at my workouts as prayers of joy and thanksgiving to a Father who took pleasure in my efforts. I think that is part of why the race (and even some of my longer runs) ended up leaving me emotionally overwhelmed after the finish, and why I may continue to run for as long as this earthsuit allows me to. And if my race was unsightly and uneven at times, well, I think our parents all loved those lumpy ceramic ashtrays we made in our 3rd grade art classes.

Why did I do this?

I am still fuzzy as to my exact reasons. I'd like to think that the marathon was more than just 'something to do' and that it went beyond mere pride, though those were both probably factors. I suppose for now I will just revert to the answer I hinted at in the second post of this blog. I think that for a lot of runners, at some point a marathon just seems like destiny. That sounds hokey, but it seems like once the question is out there, you're always going to wonder if you could travel 26.2. So I decided to find out.

That's all I can come up with at this point. I feel that this blog is on its last legs, but if I think of anything else important in the coming days I'll post it.

And I'm sorry if the use of 'last legs' pushed this entry past the point of pun saturation.

month 11

While running yesterday through weather that was nothing if not "November-ish", it seemed pretty clear that old man 2008 is nearing his end. Now that the clocks have changed, we've entered the season when nearly all of my daylight hours are spent indoors. This is a depressing thought for cubicle-dwellers like myself, but we were at least given one last week of temperate weather (that I wish I could have bottled).

If last week was indeed the last fair weather we are to have here in Cleveland this year, I am very glad that I went out with the running club during lunch on Thursday. We ran four miles at a brisk pace, on Metropark paths that looked almost golden because of all the fallen yellow leaves. It was only the second workout since the race, and the first that my body felt more or less back to normal. And after a few weeks of finding it awfully easy to put off running until another day, it felt great to really run again without any significant pain (though I was a bit sore on Friday). A fitting sendoff to the 2008 running season.

Now, there is still the question of a Turkey Trot later this month, but part of me feels like there is nothing left to prove. I foresee difficulty in forcing myself to go outside and run fast to prepare when I can instead just sit inside in the company of my slippers and some radiators. And I also remember how I felt after the race two years ago, when it took over ten minutes for me to come to the conclusion that no, I was not going to have to throw up after all.

There's still that pull though. I must be kinda fond of this running stuff.

this is Major Tom to ground control

I'd like to take an opportunity to send out some belated thanks to those involved in some way with my marathon experience. If this was a moon shot, you all were mission control, the launch pad, and my Saturn V.

To Dylana...
for pitching me this crazy idea and making it sound like a good one. And for your diligent correspondence throughout, from before week 1 to after week 18.

To my family...
for making the trip to Chicago and for shuttling me back to Cleveland when my long runs took me to 30100. Seeing you after the race meant a lot.

To Jeff...
for your hospitality in Chicago. You can be my wingman anytime.

To Andy, Dylana, Andrew, Paul, and the Moen runners...
who at some point shared some footsteps with me along the way. Especially Paul, whose presence made those long Wednesday runs in the later weeks a lot less soul-crushing than they could have been.

To Matt and Nicole...
for all of the marathon advice, which helped me to not freak out.

To Dan and Meagan...
for doing your best to comfort me during those tough couple days in Brooklyn.

To Joe, Sheila, and Wayne...
for glasses of water during and after my Cleveland Heights runs. And for the packs of frozen vegetables and Chipotle.

To my donors...
who made the fundraising part of the marathon a real blessing. You were exceedingly generous.

To my readers...
who helped sell me on the concept of blogging. It was nice to know someone was reading. And when you posted comments, they were more humorous, insightful, and encouraging than you know.

And to my friends in Cleveland and all over the place...
for taking an interest in my running, listening to me ramble on sometimes, and occasionally making me feel just a little bit superhuman.