Does your Face Hurt?

After a tough 15 miler yesterday, I woke up with the realization that there are just over 6 1/2 weeks to marathon day.

Here is my confession to the running gods:

Forgive me Forrest (he's gotta be one of the running gods, right?!), for I have sinned. It's been never since my last confession. I have been having impure thoughts about consuming carbs...and not working them off.

And it gets worse, for I have indulged in a bit of booze on the sacred Sunday (medium run day).

Yes Forrest, I will say 50 Oprah Winfreys.

I've been less structured with training during the past few weeks than I was in the beginning. After training hard and diligently for a month and a half or so, I started to feel a lot of progress and growth and got excited. So I skipped a few short run days here and there. And then Jamie and I took a week off to let our bodies heal (you always feel sore when you're training for a marathon, in some way or another). And then I sustained a minor injury of some sort to my hip during our 17 miler, which hurt when I ran. At this same time, Boulder was being smothered by smoke from the fire and all residents were being advised to avoid outdoor activity. So, the 15 mile run was quite challenging for me yesterday.

I believe this is the part during training where burn-out becomes a factor. You have to re-evaluate where your head is at in this whole process. And your heart. You have to remind yourself what you love about every single run.

The first half of the run was not enjoyable for me. I was not dedicated to it. But then I got over the wall and started to really feel that familiar buzzzzzzz.

So here I am, officially re-committing to training. There's a month and a half left and I intend to use that time to build the necessary strengh and endurance in my body and mind. I want to run every step of that 26.2 race. So no more excuses.

In the very wise words of my basketball coach (and Dad): "Does your face hurt...?"
To which you always respond with a groan and a whiney "noooo..."

(Coach/Dad) "Well, it's killin' me!"

In other words, no excuses.