I've been rattling something around the tin can for a while now: will I be a marathoner, or will I be someone who ran a marathon once.
My first marathon was an unequivocal event for me. It was a can-do statement to myself about the value of my sobriety, self-worth, and determination. I deserved to run the marathon after all I'd been through, and nothing was going to stop me. I cried some as I ran it, it was such a powerful place to be.
Of course, I want to feel that again. I loved the training and the everyday sense of accomplishment as I licked one more piece of the goal. I loved how fit I got, and I couldn't believe the things my body was able to do. I loved having such a massive goal, and I loved attaining it.
It wasn't all love of course. Life got in the way of too much of my training. There was a lot of pain involved. I did not spend as much time with the Hub as either of us would have liked.
But as time passes and I try to think this out with a level head, I realize that the reason I'm coming back to it again and again has to do with passion. There is calm and calculation, but the thing I love about the marathon -- from the 4am runs to the ice baths, the epic runs and the finish line -- is you cannot compete or complete it without passion.
And so it is without a level head and on a very strong whim that I've decided to be a marathoner. Yay!! Next up, Twin Cities Marathon 10-02-11.