No, this is not a post about periods (I thought the poop commentary two weeks ago was enough). But it is a post about turning points. Milestones in a runner's life. This is a post about growing up. Well sort of.
Today I had an 18 miler on the agenda. And something weird happened when I went to run it: I didn't freak out. Sure, I whined a little before I set off about how I didn't want to do it, but I wasn't struck with terror and dread. With each mile Carl beeped off, I thought, "great! Keep going." There was no, "17 more miles?! I can't go on!" "13 miles left? I should just turn around now." In fact, for the first time ever, I felt good enough to go on. I mean, of course I didn't, because I'm not an idiot, but I could have. Maybe, with 9 marathons under my belt, I'm finally maturing. Probably not, and next weekend I'll have a full blown anxiety attack when I'm staring down 20 miles, but it's a nice thought.
Number of Miles Run This Week: 43. I've never been more thankful for a Sunday night in my life. Until I think about how after Sundays come Mondays, and I have to do it all over again, only worse because next week I have Yasso 800s and a 20 miler, which makes me recommence the Sunday depression spiraling. So that's cool.
Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 10? How much time is left in the week? Because I was serious about the Sunday depression.
Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Brooklyn Lagers, the McNeill's, and some Sam Adams Noble Pils, which I think is way overrated. This time of year is a dry spell for beers, in my opinion. You're sick of winter beers, but nothing else is quite seasonal.
And speaking of seasons, we had a taste of Spring weather this morning (after it snowed overnight, I mean), and it was awesome and got me fired up for the racing season. And just in time, since we're about to kick off March: the month in which I can say "I'm running Boston next month." February: The Month of Claire was good while it lasted, but I have big plans for the coming weeks and months. In the meantime, with tomorrow a scheduled rest day, let's say goodbye to February, and the 159 miles I gave it. I'll want those back eventually, Feb. How about you take 139 and spot me 20 next Sunday, deal?
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