9 miles is a long way to go... I'm tired...
And while I considered ending my post there, I figure I should probably elaborate just a little...
But seriously, 9 miles IS a really long way to go! At the start of my run I felt amazing... so confident in my ability to run all 9 miles that I considered not even finishing it. I mean, what's the point? Why do I have to run all 9 just to prove that I can? I already know it's well within my ability. Of course, I am fully aware of just how ridiculous that is. But I will also admit that this was actually my thought process somewhere around mile 4. I almost had myself convinced that finishing all 9 miles was simply not necessary.
Then I got to mile 5. This was, by far, the most difficult part of my run. Had I been on the road, this might have been the easiest part... making the turn, knowing that there was only one way back and no way to cut it short. There wouldn't have been the temptation to quit. Unfortunately, a treadmill does not provide this kind of assurance. At any point in time I could simply give up and step off the treadmill. Every step of mile 5 was like a tennis match in my head. I knew I had two options... give up or keep going. The discomfort in my feet was almost enough to convince me to give up. The stubborn part of me was determined to keep going. Thank goodness I'm as stubborn as I am! I continually reminded myself that my goal for the marathon is to finish... ideally without walking. The fact is, if I can't finish 9 miles, 26.2 is never going to happen. So what if my feet hurt? Sure, if I really thought I was injuring myself by completing my run, I might decide it's not worth it. But to give up because it was hard... well, that's just not an option. I knew that, when all was said and done, I'd be really proud of my accomplishment if I could do the whole thing... so I pressed on.
Miles 7 through 9 were far easier once I'd made the decision that I was going to run all 9 miles regardless of what the rest of my body wanted. And I was surprised by my body's ability to stop its bitching once I'd told it there was no giving up. Sure, there was some discomfort from time to time, but I found, in general, that things just sort of worked themselves out. It was a nice reminder that sometimes your mind plays tricks on you and that your thoughts can affect the rest of your body a lot more than you might think. Once the decision was made, everything else just sort of fell into place.
And, when I finally reached the finish, I bent over, hands on my knees, catching my breath and suddenly realized... I had the biggest smile on my face... with no one around to congratulate me and no one to share in what I considered a huge victory. I was simply proud of myself... the fact that I ran 9 miles, didn't stop, didn't walk and, most importantly, didn't give up. I'd successfully finished one-third of a marathon. And, man oh man, did I really need to stretch...
And after I stretched, I spent 20 minutes with my feet in an ice bath... which sucked a lot, in case you were wondering. I can say with some certainty that I will spend the rest of my day walking around like a zombie trying to go easy on my legs and feet... but I'm guessing you'll still have a hard time getting this ridiculous smile off my face...
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