Running is a cruel and fickle mistress. Some days it fills your heart and soul with beautiful music, and the next you catch the early flight home from San Diego and a couple of nude people jump out of your bathroom blindfolded like a goddamn magic show ready to double team your girlfriend. Such is the way of the sport.
So after a couple months of Mozart-esk running bliss I spent the past two weeks in injury recovery mode waiting for my foot to heal. I had been feeling pretty dope-tacular before the injury, so spending the time riding the pine was kind of a bummer. When I finally laced them up last night I got a quick lesson in how fleeting being in shape is. Just two weeks and my physical fitness has faded faster than Britney’s looks.
I was hoping yesterday’s run was just an anomaly, but I dropped another four tonight and I’m hurting. I’m slow, my legs are heavy, hills have been kicking my ass, and I’m getting winded just tying my shoes. Normally this wouldn’t really be a problem, it’s just a couple weeks back on the horse and everything will be right as rain. However, I’ll be banditing part of the Boston Marathon next Monday to help pace a friend up Heart Break Hill and I don’t know if I’ll make it right now.
Granted she’s planning on going a touch under 8 minute pace so I should theoretically be able to roll out of bed and knock that out backwards, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m a little worried. With all my talk leading up about the run being a walk in the park I’m going to have a long ride home if I’m bailing at mile 6.
More importantly, I was really amped about the run. Boston is like the holy grail of running. It’s almost as if every time it’s title is even mentioned a glistening white light should shine from the heavens and a choir of angels should coo. But chances of me rocking the 3:10:59 qualifying time to ever run the race legit is pretty F-ing slim. I watched the race last year and in my eyes it’s everything running purists build it up to be. If you have any love for the sport it’s hard to be in Boston for the week leading up without getting caught up in the mystique. So after five days completely immersed in the scene I’m going to be chomping at the bit to get out there.
But I guess pushing through is what being a runner is all about. So for anyone up there next week check me from miles 10 – 23.