If you have known me for a while, you probably know I trained for a marathon a couple of years ago. I was not a runner, I just read an article in the newspaper and thought that was something I wanted to add to my list of accomplishments.
Training was rigorous, but fun. I made great friends, and learn a whole lot about myself and about how much I can achieve if I'm willing to push myself beyond my known limits.
I didn't get to finish my first marathon. I didn't quit, the marathon quit on me. It was extremely hot in Chicago and they had to cancel the race after one death and several wounded.
The months after the marathon were very disappointing. I kept trying to tell myself there was nothing I could have done, but in the back of my mind, I kept thinking: what if my pace had been faster?, what if I had lined up towards the front of the pack, would I have been able to finish? Even though my family and friends kept telling me I had accomplished my goal because I had completed a 22 mile run, it just didn't feel the same.
The past two years, I've been trying to talk myself into getting back in the race. I've been trying to convince myself to lace up my running shoes, and go out and run. I just have not found that motivation inside of me that makes me want to run.
The last few weeks, I've started to feel that little flame inside of me. I've begun to remember what it felt like to run, to feel the rush of adrenaline, to just enjoy nature.
I can hear the pavement calling me. I am starting to feel that urge that only runners can understand, that need to get out and push yourself beyond the limit one more time. I've actually read my Runner's World magazine, rather than putting it aside because I felt it's meant for runners, and I'm just not one of them.
I can hear that calling. I am ready to lace up my shoes and just run. There will be another marathon, another chance to prove to myself that I have what it takes to finish 26.2 miles.
But right now, I just want to feel like a runner again.