Today is a tough, tough day. I must admit; I am feeling low. This week, which was supposed to be filled
with my heaviest miles has become the week of my fewest. I am re-reading the things I typed from the
beginning of this blog and training mission and seeing how overwhelmed I was at
viewing the whole enormous picture of the road ahead, and my doubts at being
able to do this big thing. While they
got pushed to the background because I was doing so good as the weeks and miles
increased without much lip from my
body- those scary doubts and sadness are coming back in full strength.
My knees, the sleeping dragon, have
awaken, and are not taking a bottle and going back to sleep. For both of my past marathons the situation
was the same: the running schedule went along just fine (I mean it sucked, so
“fine” is a really generous word, but still…) until after the heaviest miles
week capped off with my twenty mile run.
That’s when the wheels started falling off this broken down cart and I
had to hobble my way through the “tapering period” not being able to run much
at all the last couple of weeks of training.
But I re-grouped and God blessed me with two successful marathon
runs.
This time though I haven’t even been
able to complete that heavy week, and I know this is kind of hugely important
in preparing my legs to handle a full marathon.
I’m worried. Being a hormonal
woman and also a mom I am prone to indulging a bit in the emotion, but still,
I’m worried.
I want to fix it quickly so I can
get back on tract, to solve the problem, learn the lesson I am supposed to be
learning with this little setback so I can check it off the list and do this
thing. I
looked at the blog post from January 21st, and it is front and
center in my brain:
The nuclear bomb that fuels my Doubting Thomas attitude is this: In praying for God to give me this cross that I might offer it up for my four reasons, I know, and He knows that the biggest cross He can send me is not being able to complete this mission. Not being able to run is far worse to me than going out and running every single horrible mile- tearing down and painstakingly building up my legs, my whole body. All the blood, sweat, tears are better by far than to have to sit on the sidelines.
That
is it. That is my fear and it is a big
one. Youch, I do not like this
cross.
So
what do I do? I guess I pray. I sit here, ice my knees and not run and hope
the cortisone shot is the magic elixir.
Great photo :)
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