I've been terrified of "The last 6" of the marathon, which is just 24 days away. Technically a Half Marathon is 13.1, but when I'm running, half way is about Mile 20. That's how far I can run before I hit the wall. There's a reason they call it that. It feels THAT bad. Regardless of how good my daily runs and weekly long runs feel, I dread the 20-22 mile wall. (Watch Run Fatboy Run for a good visual). I hit it in Ottawa in 2008, and nothing could have prepared me for the drop in strength, energy, and spirit. The only thing that kept me going was: 1) finishing before Rodney, who never trained; 2) seeing my family and Thelma at the finish; 3) nobody stopped to give me a ride, because I would have jumped on the back of a scooter had a ride been offered.
Forced to run to the end of the Ottawa Marathon 2008
The truth about why I run comes down to one word, one thing: ME. I run for me. One night last week I left the house in the darkness of night with a foggy head and my blood boiling (Rodney and I were bickering over ipods for some reason). When I returned a little over an hour later I realized that my goal: to catch the younger, thinner, version of myself was absurd. What did that really mean anyway? What would I do if I caught that bitch?
The research on exercise and pregnancy, according to my friend and fellow Train Wreck (internet group of former preggo runners), shows that there is a increase in the efficiency on the cardiovascular system for women like me who were able to return to running relatively quickly after having a baby. I guess I've been one of the lucky ones able to capitalize on the extra blood volume and increased cardiac output. Oh, and dropping the baby weight of 20+lbs definitely helps with speed and movement.
Physically, I’m better than the self I used to be. I’m faster, stronger, and a happier Canadian sweat machine than I’ve ever been. Sure, things are in different places; got me some thunder thighs, a thicker ribcage, slightly bigger boobs, and Rodney always asks where my butt went. I can’t go back to the way I was, and all things considered, I don’t want to be that careless girl anymore.
Spring 2010 - Things are in different places, but they still work
My goal when I was a preggo runner was simply to run smart and feel good. I never let anyone convince me that my maintaining my fitness level was bad for the baby. My experience as a pregnant runner changed my running habits in postpartum. I can run without music, literally running to the beat of the songs or thoughts in my head. I listen to my body: when it tells me enough is enough, I stop. I warm up, cool down, and stretch. I think about and practice hydrating. I eat with energy and nutrition in mind and not just to move the mouth and fill the gut. I plan. I lay out clothes the night before, set the coffee maker, fill a bag of "stuff I might need". I run with the determination and mindset that my daily running goals are as routine as my job as a "homemaker" (that word to describe myself, always cracks me up).
Becoming a mother has made me a better runner and individual, but being a faster runner doesn't make me a better mother or person. I have to run the best race that I can for me and I know I will do it, no matter how long it takes. The best part about completing a workout, long run, or race is coming home to a chubby-cheeked, smiling baby girl.
My go-to words for this race: Conserve, Pace, Go, Endure, Push, Breathe, Smile, Finish, Rejoice.
The other day while we were watching the PBS Kids channel, I heard, "Metamorphosis, you've changed". Metamorphosis was the Sesame Street Word on the Street". Yes, I have changed, but I think it was definitely a change for the better.
Pimp my BOB
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