In 2000 I began training to run my first marathon. 8 weeks away from the starting pistol, I was sidelined with a second degree anterior tibial tendon strain (that means the tendon was extremely inflamed and I was put in a walking cast for six weeks. Relegated to watch the marathon from the sidelines, I resigned myself to getting better and pocketed the dream of 26.2 miles.
In 2001, I ran my first half marathon to subsequently be followed by two more 1/2 marathons in 2002 and 2003. In the Spring of 2003 I was selected in the lottery to run the Marine Corps Marathon. I was STOKED.
I began training and was faithful to that training even through the sticky hot summer that plagued the East Coast that year. I was consistent, healthy and strong.
On a Saturday in late September, one month away from the marathon, I rose at my usual time of 4:00 AM to begin my long run. That morning it was 20 miles. A little less than 4 hours later, I sat at the finish line of my 20-mile run in tears and pain, realizing that deep in my heart, I knew I couldn't make it through the 26.2 miles. Mentally, I hit a wall that would prove to be my undoing. When the starters pistol was fired early on a November morning for those runners to begin the famed 26.2 miles that would end at the foot of the Iwo Jima memorial, I was burrowed deep down under my covers in Fairfax, VA lamenting over that wall I had run into.
Fast forward three and a half years, I'm back in Texas, my three years on the East Coast a pleasant yet distant memory. But the spirit of the all mighty 26.2 mile run still haunting me.
Today, I took the first tentative steps towards exorcising that spirit and running down the demons that have over the last two and a half years transformed me from an avid distance runner to an avid hater of all things running, I hired a running coach.
As I huffed and puffed my way around the 1/4 mile track at the Cooper Clinic this afternoon, I began to shake the spirit of doubt. As my new coach yelled encouragement and instruction (to fix my form and footfall cadence) I realized that however long this journey will be, whatever paths I must take to make the dream a reality, whatever I must endure, this time, THIS TIME, the journey will end at the finish line of White Rock.
See you there in December!
