Starting out, I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I started out slowly. My legs felt... well, you know how there are those runs when your legs feel like lead? This wasn't one of those... it was a heavy feeling, but more similar to sandbags. It was impossible to find a rhythm. NOT in the zone.
Then I started to reminisce. Whenever this happens, I am always amazed at how many memories I have of running. My life is full of incredible things, but running is one love that's been around longer than many others.
Though now that I think about it, I've had many long-term lovers.
- ballet
- rum
- dancing
- torn sweatshirts, legwarmers, general Flashdance attire
- costumes
- peanut butter
- men with broad shoulders
- cars with spare tires on the back
- Backstreet Boys
- writing
- reading
- bass
- summer
- obscenely bright nail polish
Anyway back to running. It's amazing to me how much I remember. Hundreds of races later, I can still remember the way my feet felt in flip-flops on the dead grass at the Brown Invitational. I still remember the indoor track practice when we ran in the rain, and I realized that if I didn't brush my hair, I had ringlets. I remember putting makeup on after practice to go lift weights with the boys. I remember reminiscing about that a couple of years ago over mojitos and giggling hysterically. I remember which boys didn't race in underwear, how much every monogrammed sweatshirt cost, and every time I got partially (or entirely) naked in public to change because the baathrooms were too far away. Crosby dancing. My famous kick. Grandma Dorothy at my XC meet frosh year. My nickname freshman year at UMass, assless wonder ("it's a wonder she can sit down at all, let alone run!). Oh, and that BITCH who stomped on my foot during the first 100 meters of that race at Roger Williams. Her spikes tore a hole in the top of my spikes, and when I finished, there was blood up to my ankle. Jam sessions with Emerson XC in KB's apartment (she had probably 10 instruments). Early morning Dunkin while waiting at Boylston/Tremont for the bus. Peeing my pants three times during the marathon (I was SO PROUD of that. It's surprisingly difficult).
By this point I was running much faster. I was listening to that Black Crowes song, She talks to Angels, and I sped up. Then BRMC's Weight of the World. Then Britney (YES).
Good God it felt good. My knees were sore by the end but I was f-ing flying.
I should mention that by the kayaking place (so, 3-4 miles to go), it started pouring. I had just run over the Harvard Footbridge and I figured, well, fuck it, I might as well keep going. I try not to run in the rain, because now it matters when I get sick, but this was by accident, so I figured it was okay.
I love running in the rain. There's something so primal and strong and fantastic about not letting any weather get in your way as a runner. It's one of the many reasons I loved training for Boston. You're required to do most of your long runs in subzero weather. By the tiime you get to the marathon, it's a balmy 70 and you're like "Really? I was worried about this? I ran in weather so cold when I peed in the woods it froze before hitting the ground." True story, btw.
Now I'm soaked and freezing and I smell like feet but hell I am SO HAPPY.
And I ran fast. :) It felt fantastic.
Love you all.
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