Long run

For years, Saturday mornings have become the day of the week when it's time for my "long run". I figure that running has been around for me since the late 70's. For many years it was running around the lakes in Mpls., with Lake Harriet being my favorite. For years I was a slave to the watch, always trying to improve my time, which in those days was between a 7:00 -7:30 minute/mile pace. It wasn't until the early 80's that I ran my first 10k race...actually an Aquatennial run that was more like a 7k...I managed a 7:00 pace and almost died after I ran the 1st mile with a neophyte's foolishness in 6:00 minutes. First marathon was Grandma's in June of 1993 (3:59). Twin Cities came right on it's heels in October of 1993 (4:08) New York in 2000 on a dare from Raymo (4:45) and again the Twin Cities in 2001 (4:20) Certainly never threatened to qualify for the Olympics!
So anyways, the long run....sometimes it has disappeared from my routine for months, sometimes it only means 4,5 or 6 miles but now I have gone and done it again...I registered for Grandma's marathon to be run on 6/21/08. Why oh why did you do it Mr? I have had this conversation between my head and heart many times.....it goes something like this:
"How about taking on the challenge of running another marathon?"(heart)
"Yeah, it's tempting...would give us a goal and ultimately another accomplishment BUT you must recall that the increase in training demands so often lead to injury and then you can't even run for aerobic exercise" (head)
This kind of back and forth goes on virtually every year as I read about upcoming marathons, hear of people registering. It's been 6+ years since I ran my last marathon, the Twin Cities in 2001 which I dedicated to my ailing father who ultimately died the following month. Actually, the memory of that grueling affair should have been enough to convince me of not succumbing to the allure of trying it all again at what will be my 61st year of life. I just can't erase the agony produced by once again falling for the 'going out too fast' trap, running with the 345 guys, not understanding that that was their pace, 3:45, and keeping with them for the 1st 10 miles before the grim reaper showed up to collect his dues. Remember praying that Sandi would be at the 13 mile mark like she had hoped to be if she could break away from the hospital where her Dad appeared to be in his last days. And then seeing her, breaking into tears, "I can't do this" "I'm broken, empty, only half way" but not having any other choice because I was wearing a t-shirt that said "This marathon dedicated to my Dad: Art XXXXX". Can't d.n.f. with that kind of commitment on your back....finally getting to Summit Ave, limping along, arm in my windbreaker as a sling, grinding it out, no pleasure, no sense of any particular victory but to get it over with. Yeah, how do like these details Mr.? Gonna do it again eh sucker?
OK, OK, so it maybe wasn't a good idea to run that old film clip. Let's segue from that to the present with only a sore left knee so far, and still taken up with the concept of running another one. It's not racking up the 5th one that draws me this time around....nothing particularly magical about the number 5....4 has served me well. So what in the "sam hill" (by the way, who is sam hill and why do we use his name?) caused me to get online and register and even spend $80 bucks for this dubious privilege?
As usual, understanding my motivations is a foggy enterprise at best. As I look through my personal crystal ball, I see lots of swirling stuff and therein lies my first clue....
Stage of life stuff going on. In my early 60's, kind of almost disoriented about what that even sounds like or feels like. Inside I'm still feeling the same as 30 years ago but AARP keeps knocking on my freak'in door with all kinds of sunset offerings. Sheesh, what's a fella to do?
In-laws needing help, amputation, ramps, elevated toilet seats and shower chairs and grab rails and transfers. And my Mom, bless her 91-year-old- heart, bears deliberate monitoring. Even though she continues to be very independent for her age, still driving, volunteering, pumping her own gas....(well done Mom), still must be intentional with keeping her little 4'10" blip clearly tracked on the radar screen of life.
And work, losing heart about carrying on at H&A. Ten years, longest I've ever worked anywhere with modest returns and limited ability to compete in the accumulation of toys contests that seem all the rage. Not feeling like I have a grip on my 'end game'.
And then there's the ongoing launch, from what is now a distance, of the kids...all in 20's (Inga, sorry you're no longer a kid), all kind of scrapping and clawing through the muddle best they know how
I've heard it call the "sandwich" time of life....caught between the ongoing concerns of your own children and your parents.
Well, regardless, it's amidst the swirl of all of this that my heart and head somehow seemed to conspire and reach agreement that I could use something that's big, that is for me, that will give me a break from the above cycles, and that may even provide, if I'm lucky, some weight control over the 300 lb. monster that continues to gnaw at it's thinning restraints.
So, it's time to quit the traditional Saturday procrastinating. (Oh great, so now blogging can provide yet another source of delaying the inevitable). Time to suit up and go for 10 but better it be 11 this time around in the interest of building up the base.
So good to chat about this....
Just do it!