Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…no. Running, Wobbling, Running…

Marathon #2 sits on the horizon and, god willingGod Willing I’ll cross that line again.

Marathon #1 was an all-out disaster that almost didn’t happen due to my mom’s illness but did happen due to my mom’s illness and her unrelenting push for me to train.

I trained through, tears, stress, worry and crossed the line many times arguing with incompetent doctors who destroyed my mom’s will to live and her health

And,

I finally crossed THAT LINE at the end of the marathon which my mom did not live to see.

-Actually, she did see, for she was on the corner of Sackett Street and Fourth Avenue, just not in this realm and as I woggled towards that street, I stopped, crossed myself and bowed for the Queen.

So,

back to Marathon #2 in which training has not officially begun but I’ve started anyway because well, I have nothing better to do than pound my knees via my feet kissing asphalt, concrete and dirt trails.

Love the trails, love my feet, love my knees, hate the dirt.IMG_0758.jpg

And at least I’m not kissing someone’s ass

So,

I’ll tie up the laces tomorrow, that are tied already, just need to slip on the sneaker.

-(I’ll set the garmin, set the interval timer, wear the running glasses that get dark in the sun, put on the Panache Bra, set up the Spotify, put on the lip balm, make the Nunn for the water bottle, separate Tara-Habby from the treacherous cat posse  (worse than the Sharks but just like the Jets) out to dethrone the Queen ( not me this time)  and ultimately sit on the throne (corner of my bed).)

IMG_0757.jpg

The Green Throne

And hit the road…not like Jack in Ray’s song for

I’ll be coming back, god willing.

 

Running in the rain…or Bling desperation

So…

I ran a half marathon-13.1 miles on Saturday.

I ran it on the mean streets, oops, the gentrified streets of Brooklyn.

The race started on the sidewalk of the cosmetically altered Botox on concrete gone wrong Brooklyn Museum and ended on the newly reinstalled wood weather treated planks of the boardwalk in the now Russian enclave of Coney Island.

So…

It was raining.

Not the drizzly refreshing kinda rain but the giant pouring rain drops slapping your head and oozing down your face kinda rain. The drizzly refreshing came towards the end but as soon as I crossed that finish line the slapping drops returned! My glorious finish was photographed in the arms of Peter Ciaccia, president of NYRR running events and a big supporter of those who are referred to as the ‘back of the packers’. In other words, back of the packers are the ones who finish the race long after the after post-race party has ended and the disgruntled looks from volunteers who had been out in the elements since 4am want to go home to a hot shower but are stuck out there waiting for your ass to cross the line, so they can break it down and cart the shit back to storage and finally…go home. 60938147_race_0.4027700976311832.display

So…

My first time running in the rain.

A brutal lesson in feeling downright accomplished at making it through the course then feeling soaking wet cold and miserable enough to forgo that Nathan’s hot dog and beer. All week leading up to running the half visions of hotdogs in buns slathered in sauerkraut and mustard danced in my head. Twirling round and round the hotdogs danced moving towards my mouth where slowly, they would be decimated, eaten and conquered.

So…

The vision of hot dogs was fleeting.

It was replaced by my yearning to get my soaking, wet butt home to stay under a hot shower until eternity or the hot water heater gave out.

So…

I ate pizza.

It wasn’t the same satisfaction of eating a dancing hot dog but it had to do. Two slices, plain, nothing fancy and it landed in my gut with a thud and stayed for two days. 33020104_10216735804493257_7361619764055113728_n

So much for running in the rain…or Bling desperation.

On Running…or random acts of self-gloating.

Running, seriously keeps me in the moment, in the present, with thoughts dabbing tearfully at the past and  plans my hand enjoys squashing like a giant bug swatter dealing with the future.

The act of running,

Is not running…

It’s training to run. IMG_2504

Training is…

Humiliating, teaching one to be humble during a race as gastrointestinal issues make an unexpected appearance before hitting a porta potty. Once there, one recuperates, cursing the lack of tp and continues afterwards with the…

Training that becomes…

Humbling, when a cocky self assured self decides to run a ½ marathon without the training and ends up puking on the side of the running path. Once there, one recuperates cursing at not having the time to train and continues afterwards with the…

Training that inspires…

Aspirations which turn into goals and thus become accomplishments. Once there, one recuperates, cursing at not recognizing what the hard work was for and duh, reveling in the feely, good thingys not only felt but held close to the heart.IMG_2503

Well, those are my thoughts on running or random acts of self-gloating.

Not in Kansas anymore…or…AND, OR , BUT.

My running season goals of 2017 were:

  1. To be social and branch out of solely running Ppark (Prospect Park)
  2. Graduate from the 5k’s with the tee shirt award to the 10k’s with the tee shirts AND medal awards

Guess what?

Achieved, done, concluded, fulfilled, ended, over and done with!!IMG_2078

Goals are the wish lists we formulate and attempt to complete… OR…fail while doing so.

Failure…

At times, staying in ‘Kansas’ may be the road block which caused the goal failure to begin with. Comfort-ability does have its snags… BUT… so does taking that initial step to ‘make it happen’ and tripping,  falling flat on your face and ending up in a hospital bed, thinking , ‘How the hell did that happen?’

Well, as John Lennon said, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”.

And so it does…life happens.

The running goals for 2017 were not going to happen if I continued to run alone in Ppark doing the same thing, the same way, everyday. IMG_2079

Change.

It had to come so I joined a running group, paid the joiner’s fee with money borrowed and not paid back. This major shift gave the best results as my running goals were met as well as having social running buddies. Aspirations and new goals are up a notch for 2018 (God willing because we know he can be tricksy sometimes).

So…

There are no AND, OR ,BUT to change. No excuses.

Just do it.IMG_2075

 

 

 

%d bloggers like this: