Mission Accomplished... Almost

Otherwise known as... Love the Race, Hate the Training

Friday afternoon I donned running gear in the My Small Town High School Guidance Department washroom, my usual routine on training days.  In my dreams, I look like the cover of Runner's World magazine.  In actuality, I... ummm... don't. 

My gear includes yoga pants, a t-shirt, running shoes and socks, appropriate underthings (to hold it all together!)... and a new accessory, wholly practical, but entirely placing me into the category of unattractive.  This new item I can't live without?  A tiny lavender hip-pack, which holds my phone and car key, freeing my hands by fastening around my waist.  With my short, pony-tailed hair with bangs held in place by bobby pins, I was hardly going to win a beauty contest... but now?  Well, let's just say in my fantasies I am the running version of The Ugly Duckling. 

Friday I had a ten mile run to complete according to my training plan.  Veering from my typical training ground at My Small Town Lakefront, I took to jogging up and down the grid of streets nearby before ending back up at the lakefront trail for the last 3.3 miles.  The last two were hard, but I dug deep got them in (I actually repeat to myself, DIG DEEP, when energy is failing) and when I finished, my legs felt like jelly.  I stretched, drank more water, and was suddenly aware of how dark the evening had become.  When I started my run, the sun was high up in the cloudless blue sky.  By the time I finished, the sun was replaced by a shining silver moon.

As I walked back to the Jen-mobile, my eyes caught a sharply dressed man walking his dog, and I smiled, offering,  It's a nice night for a walk.  He didn't even acknowledge me.  I wasn't to trying to flirt, just be friendly.  I shrugged it off... I was looking crusty.  Still, civility should rule.  Ah well... (He clearly doesn't know what I look like when I'm all cleaned up.)

I always feel a sense of dread when I know I have a run greater than my six mile comfort zone to accomplish.  This past Friday I saw one of my favorite people as I headed to my car after work.  I let her know I was on my way to do ten miles.  Have fun with that, Jen.

I confided, I hate the training, but love the race.  She said that was a metaphor for our students.  Unfortunately, it's the rare student who actually works diligently for what he or she wants to achieve.

I hear that.

Come February 24th, I'll be enjoying the spoils at Disney's Princess Half Marathon, reveling in being cheered on and all the crazy costumes and fun scenery as I run through the Happiest Place on Earth.  In the meantime, I put in the miles to get there.  Because even though the training is hard and makes me hurt everywhere, the setting of a goal and seeing that goal through enriches my spirit. 

For now, dear friends, that is enough.