Remember the good old days when nothing seemed to make your muscles cry the next day (realistically the next three days)? Skiing? No sweat. Playing five basketball games in a weekend tournament? Easy as pie. Running twenty-one miles three weeks out from a marathon? Not so fast...
The last really long run on the training schedule was Saturday. I met two great gals (by great I really mean small...like 5'2"-5'3" ish giants that kept up with my 6'2" frame pace. I am genetically taller, therefore slower. Isn't that how it goes? The excuse has been working for slow, white NBA centers for years now so it should work for me).
Yes, the next day I was sore. My joints were fine. My head was fine. My hammies and my feet...not so fine.
I chalk it up to the fact that 21 miles is a long way. If I wasn't sore, I would be worried.
I may not be 21 anymore (far from it), but there is one thing that hasn't changed since then. That is the fact that I just might have the coolest parents around. Hubby had an Eagle Scout project he needed to be at by 8am. I knew I wouldn't be home by then. So what does my mom do? She heads over here at 7:45 am and chills with the girlies. For two hours. On a Saturday morning. Takes them to the park, plays with them and gives them a snack. There is no way I could have fit that run in without her help. And, this has nothing to do with running, but Grandpa left work on Monday, drove 20 minutes to see the oldest's preschool graduation, then drove all the way back to work. Very, very cool. So, how does this all relate to the marathon I will be running in 15 days (with 8,500 other yahoos!)? As I sit here icing the outside of my ankle (not sure what happened...went to bed...fine...woke up...not so fine), I realize that I am not the only one 'training' to run this race. Without all the help and support of my family and friends, this wouldn't be happening. And that feels really good...kinda like skiing, running or playing basketball did when I was 21.