Destination: Life!

Beware: Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies Lead to Grandiose Ideas

The days following the 15K were great! First of all, a break from running! Second of all, I gave myself permission to eat whatever I wanted, including a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies that I devoured recklessly! I was on such a high in the days after finishing that 9.3 mile run (maybe it was the sugar), that I spent a good deal of time researching the sport of running. In my cookie-induced trance, I stared blurry eyed at website after website, learning about stretching, strength training, speed work, and marathon training.

Marathon?

The word caught my eye. Then I laughed. C’mon. Only runners – real runners – do marathons. I moved on to a Google search on the definition of a Fartlek.

But wouldn’t you know it, as I continued looking at running websites, the word "marathon" kept popping up. Hmmm.  Imagine that. Maybe the gods of pedation are trying to give me a sign.

Then it happened - the dawning of an idea I really didn’t want to come fully into consciousness. But I couldn’t stop it. It had a mind of its own. Next thing I knew I was writing to a friend, “I am considering the insane idea of exploring the possibility of maybe thinking about the prospect of perhaps entertaining a thought to consider just a teeny bit the option of maybe doing a marathon for my 40th."

I mean, doesn’t it sound romantic? “Non-Runner Woman Completes First Ever Marathon in World Record Time to Celebrate her Fourth Decade!” OK, the world record part is the stuff of a grand imagination (especially when you consider I am insanely slow.) But, a marathon for my 40th birthday? Could it be done? I’d love to be able to say I did it. And I was still just high enough from the run four days earlier to allow myself to be open to the possibility of running a marathon. Me. 26.2 miles.

And, as I sat comfortably on my couch eating french fries and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, it seemed like a really good idea.

Nine Point Three

Sunday, May 17, 2009

This morning I got the crazy idea to up and run a 15K – 9.3 miles that is (why point three? Who put the point three in the 15K?). OK. That’s not exactly true. I didn’t just get the idea this morning. I have been training for it, running three times a week at various distances, for ten weeks. The “it” I was training for was the Biltmore 15K, an annual race where people run a course on the amazing Biltmore grounds. It is so lovely there, and I had just completed my first 5K in many years, so I thought, “Hey, I can do a 5K. Why not a 15K?” (First strike of insanity. Why would I assume I could easily run three times the distance?) And so I attempted to register my husband and myself for the race.

Full. The race was full. No way. We were still two and half months out. It can’t be full. There are 800 slots for this race. It can’t be full. I just checked last week and there was space. It can’t be full. I REALLY want to do this. So it can’t be full!

But it was full. We were told that there was a chance that 150 additional slots would open up, and we could get on a waiting list. Wait we did. And in the meantime, we trained. Every week, three times a week for ten weeks (that’s 30 training runs for 100 miles total, if you’re counting). We trained for the race I just knew we’d get into!

And then the news: those 150 spots were not going to open. The waitlist was closed. We were not going to get to run in the Biltmore 15K. I was beyond disappointed. All that training, for naught. I almost gave up. The Saturday we were to do an 8-miler, one week before the race we weren’t running in, I stayed home while my husband ran. What was the point? There was no race to run. Besides, who really wants to go run eight miles on a perfectly good Saturday. Not me. I felt so free.

Liar.

After missing the eight-mile run, I felt hugely let down. I really wanted to continue that training schedule that resulted in running a 15K. I cannot tell you why. But the sense of needing to do this was strong, so I decided to run my own 15K: Chart my own course, plant my own water, make my own post-race snack (oatmeal chocolate chip cookies). I ran that eight miles the next Monday morning. I was back on track.

So, fast forward to May 17, this morning. We got up at 7:00am, ate our Luna Bars and bananas, stretched, drove 5.5 miles out on the course to plant some water, and at 8:00am were at the starting line to this insanity called running.