On Monday, I sent a few emails, wrote the blog, and headed out for an easy three. My running gear seems to be as unpredictable as my terrorist ovaries these days, with my trusty iPod shuffle just up and dying that morning. (RIP little guy. We had a lot of good miles together). I ran with my phone, something I almost never do.
Right around mile 2.5, my email dinged. Unbelievably, it was the race direction from the California International Marathon. Less than twenty minutes from the time I emailed them, they responded with an overwhelming positive "YES!" to my request to be admitted to their field. They were happy to grant me a medical exception to run on December 6th. They sold out a few weeks ago, but based on my rather unusual situation this past weekend, I was welcome to come and "grab that BQ."
This time, it was tears of happiness. Much better than the other kind, but I gotta stop this. I'm going to dehydrate.
It's 8 more weeks of training, but I came to terms with that before I ever sent the email. Yes, going back to "a normal life" is tempting, but maybe I can figure out a better balance than the last few months. Scotty and I can still make pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies with buttercream frosting and Nerds (he asks me every morning if today is "cookie day." Also, he came up with this little concoction. I think it sounds amazing.) Little League is leveling out; no early Saturday morning games, so I should have enough time to recover after the long run. My weight is really low right now (skinnier than my wedding; I never thought I'd see that day) so at least that's one thing I don't have to worry about. Compression socks at night? I can manage. At least the weather broke and it's cooling off. Brian's all in and I promised not to morph into a shrieking velociraptor in the final days of taper madness (well, as much as humanly possible.)
I appreciate all of the support but I do want to point out, my DNF is no tragedy. This is the greatest first world problem I can think of. Tragedy is what is happening in Syria. A mass shooting. A debilitating illness. Kim not finishing her race is disappointing but no catastrophe. As Courtney said as we sat poolside on Saturday afternoon, "You weren't meant to finish that race. There's a reason for it. You'll figure it out soon enough." She's like, so meta these days. I love it. I agree - this is just one more step on this very bizarre journey. I couldn't have predicted Saturday but there is certainly no sense on dwelling on it. Part of me wonders if the Universe wants to see how many hits I can take before I fall down for good. Well, bring it. I survived that prairie dog field. I can handle this.
With that...cheers to second chances, encouraging quotes on Pinterest, and many, many more miles.