To Dream the Impossible Dream

Today was my 6 mile run.

Six miles. A 10K.

As I ran with my husband at my side, I thought of when my daughter's dance coach was training for a half-marathon and was running 6 miles. At the time I thought she was quite an athlete. Six miles is quite a run. Oh, to be young again, I had thought at the time.

As I ran, I thought of the kindergarten teacher I subbed for a couple of years ago so she could go run her half-marathon. Amazing, I had thought. Who does such things?

As I ran, I thought of my daughter running her 10K when I ran my first official 5K. Of course I always think she's amazing, and that day was no exception. I thought of my daughter's half-marathon, the one I signed her up for because it touted amazing scenery, not thinking about the hills involved, the one where the heavens opened up and dumped on them at the start, and she came out of it smiling. 

Today I ran 6 miles.

It's not a huge deal. I've run two 10Ks now, so I've done it before. The difference is that at that time it was the end of my training. Now it's a benchmark toward something greater - my own half-marathon.

Running has taught me a lot about self-limiting thoughts. I look back on all the things I didn't think I could do that I am now doing. I reminded my husband (at around mile 5) how this all began. My son, then a 5^th grader, signed up for our local 5k. I saw his friend's mom sitting on the sidelines and asked her if she was running next year. She laughed and shook her head no. Some switch in my head flipped and I thought, why not? Not for her, but for me? Why not? Why couldn't I run this race also? There was no reason. (Well, except for the fact that the race is run on a parade course in front of everyone from my town.) I started running the next week. If you want to read about that, you'll have to go back to my first post.

The important thing is that now I'm doing what I once thought was impossible.

Today I ran 6 miles. Two years ago, I never would have believed I'd be doing this.

“It always seems impossible until its done.”
Nelson Mandela

Fear

What would you do if you were not afraid?

This half-marathon has been a while in coming. Even so, we are still not officially committed. Like a foreign affairs delegation, we have been taking our sweet time deciding, going over every angle, every nuance of the race and of ourselves. Will there be hills? (We don't like hills.) Will we be able to do it? (We've only ever gone 6 miles, and that was tough.) Are we traveling? (Turns out, we're not.) Can our bodies take that much tortuous pounding the pavement? (According to Chris McDougall, it's what we were born to do.)

As I stated in my previous post, we've worked our way up from the very beginning, from sedentary to runner. I'm still waiting to look like a runner. If you saw me in the grocery aisle, I would hope you would be able to tell, at least from the nutritious food choices, or the way I walk a little taller and lighter on my feet. I'm still lacking the sleek running body, and at my age I don't really expect to get it. (But who knows? I just saw an article about an 80-year-old weight lifting woman!) I'm running for fitness. I'm running because I still can.

As for the half-marathon, Eugene has beckoned, and we are answering her call. We've heard that you should travel for a half, that all that training should lead up to something special. We've talked about going to California or Washington, or even Arizona, although the sweep through the apparently dangerous Arizona canyon to pick up stragglers was a little off-putting. We decided, for many reasons, to run in our own backyard.

Eugene is very welcoming to runners. It has the honor of being known as Track Town, USA, and has been home to Alberto Salazar,  Bill Bowerman, and Steve Prefontain. The Eugene half-marathon ends at Hayward Field, where I understand anyone sitting at home can still witness you running to the finish over a live stream. Even so, I hope my loving supporters will be there in person to cheer me on (and perhaps carry me home). If you don't know, Hayward Field was the location for the Olympic trials last year. (I wonder if I will feel like an Olympian running into that venue after 13 miles.)

So the half-marathon is decided.

So is it crazy to register for a marathon when we haven't ever run more than 6 miles? Is it insane to plan for something that is still a year away? I want to run the Big Sur Marathon the year I turn 50. I think that would lessen the blow of being a half-century old. I would run a half mile for every year of my life, and then some. So we've been looking into it. It's beautiful. We're from Oregon, so we know the majestic beauty of the rugged Pacific coastline. It's brutal. There are hills, many of them, not least of which is Hurricane Hill, a tortuous 700 ft climb over a distance of 2 miles. My sister is dubious. Can we do it? We can walk it. I'm more worried about the distance. Twenty-six miles is a heck of a long jog! So I go back to my nowadays mantra: What would you do if you weren't afraid? Am I afraid of running the half marathon? Absolutely! Am I afraid of even thinking about a marathon? Without a doubt! But I know if I don't try, then I absolutely won't be crossing any finish lines. I've made it this far. How far can I go? I'll keep you posted.



"The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotion, spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who have never tasted victory or defeat."

Teddy Roosevelt