There is only one easy 3K on Saturday (before the crack of dawn) before The Big Run. The last 18 weeks (only?) have been a wild ride during which commitment was redefined for me. I’ve had this love-hate relationship with running for the past four years where I would stop at the drop of a hat but this experience has convinced me it’s a habit that’s here to stay.
I couldn’t have done it without the sheet-protector-enclosed training schedule that I marked up with a plum-coloured Sharpie everyday (see also the first eleven weeks). I couldn’t have done it without the clinic and/or the fantastic people I’ve gotten to know at Run Club. I couldn’t have done it without a constant supply of new shoes and cute clothes. I couldn’t have done it without the carrot dangling before me of being allowed to enjoy the meals I’ve always enjoyed but now warding off the hefty consequences.
In other news, tapering has been a b*tch what with being pummeled with all the “ailments”: food/carb cravings, phantom pains, weight gain-that-I-will-dub-“taper weight”, and exhaustion. On the flip-side, I had the hardest Wednesday in recent history that was capped with 3.5 hours of dancing where my body finally gave out and I rolled my ankle. Still, I did a race-pace 10K this morning and that would not have happened 19 weeks ago. So there.