I am a runner and I have the callouses to prove it.

On Thursday night I had a "running epiphany"-- I understand now how this can be addictive. When the run is perfect-- weather, pace, time of day-- everything just magically clicks. The endorphin rush is unbelievable and what's more, it lasts for hours. A good run = joy. Of course, the problem is reaching that "joy point" each time.

Tomorrow will be my final long run. Althought the official schedule calls for 18, I'm planning to run 20 miles. I want the mental "boost." After tomorrow, I start cutting back. the race is in three weeks.

And now it is raining outside and I'm sitting here wondering how else (other than in pants size) this experience has changed me. I feel different, but I'm not sure how. I'm proud that I've stuck to the schedule. I didn't quit. It was difficult on some days, but I didn't quit. I think that's why I was so anxious this week about my sore knee. I didn't want to miss a day because I'm afraid that I'd start to think that since it was okay to miss that run, maybe I'd skip another one because I'm tired or busy or ... But I didn't skip. I readjusted the schedule and reduced the mileage a bit, but I didn't skip.

I don't have any more insight tonight. I am getting excited because tomorrow is November 1 which means only 21 more days!

By the way...

I forgot to mention two important events from Sunday's run. First-- I passed a pair of chubby-bottom-girls. They were running on the canal. They'd come on about 2 miles from where I'd started and were moving steadily and I passed them. It took awhile but I did it. I smiled inside as I called, "On your left." Actually, the inside smile was more of a gloat or a smirk. That's okay- I earned it.

On a related note, I also passed two old(er) men who were walking. Came up from behind, called out, and whizzed right by them. Okay, so I didn't really "whiz" past. It was at about mile 16 so perhaps "stumble" is the more appropriate word choice. Doesn't matter. Again, I felt affirmed in my running prowess. (It's the little successes that keep me going.)

Tonight I did 4 miles around Roebling/Florence. I had to come home after work and didn't have time to hit the park. I was slow and sluggish tonight. It doesn't really matter (there's that phrase again) what the GPS says. I was slow. I wonder if this is residual tiredness from Sunday's run. I'm beat. Ah well, tomorrow is another 8.

18 down.

With an average pace of 11:27, I ran eighteen miles today. I walked more than I wanted to-- I have to in order to eat and drink. Can I do another eight on top of this? I don't know. I have to believe that I can. There's only one more long run to go and then it's reduction (they call it "tapering") to the marathon.

Next weekend will be my final long training run. I never would have imagined that I could do this. I am proud of myself.

Now I need to shower. After the endorphins have dissipated and I've relaxed, I'll write some more.

To Washington Crossing and beyond.

Tomorrow I will run 18 miles. Wow. Normally that long run would have been today with Sunday as the recovery day, but I fell on Wednesday night and that threw the schedule off. So tomorrow I will run farther than I've even imagined I could. Eighteen seems so much more than 16. It isn't. I need to keep my brain in the right place and my legs pumping and I'll be fine. No, I'll be great. (Need to exercise this positive self talk.) I only have two long runs left-- tomorrow and then next weekend. After that I begin reducing in preparation for the marathon. I'm starting to feel excited. I will be running a marathon in less than a month's time. Suddenly what was really only theoretical (me running 26.2 miles) is going to become reality.

To bed tonight. Here's a toast to tomorrow's success.

Feeling lumpish.

I'm in a bit of a slump. I had errands to run (no pun intended) yesterday and home repair- related responsibilities today and now I don't much feel like going out for my 8 miles. I'm sitting here trying to persuade myself to go and get changed and get outside, but the positive self-talk isn't very effective at the moment. I know I'll go eventually because not going really isn't one of the options.

I need to get back to that happy place from last week. I've been pretty down on myself for the past few days although there's really no reason for it. I don't know, maybe just feeling overwhelmed. Too much thinking about things that are (at least for the moment) unanswerable. I'd rather go take a nap. It's already after 5. I could shift my runs to tomorrow and Friday, but that would really throw off the whole schedule. I need to suck it up, find my shoes, and hit the road.

I am a runner. It is beautiful outside. I do not miss training days. I have a responsibility to myself. I am a runner.

Now what?

I started by writing about the weather and how I've run in heat, rain, and cold. I scrapped that and began by stating that as of today I've run roughly 230 miles since the first week of August. Again, I have nothing to follow that statement so I scrapped it too.

And now I'm sitting here wondering why my good running feeling, my high, my flow, has dissipated leaving me with a vague feeling of discontent and disappointment. Last week was amazing. I felt like I could conquer the world. I was strong. Today? Not so much. No llama here. Tonight I just feel tired and angry and disappointed and I don't know why. It's not the running. I did four miles. Felt good. Finished strong. It's confusion in my head and my heart. The old demons are back poking around and I don't feel like dealing with them.

Nothing more to say tonight. I'm tired and may just turn in early. Tomorrow is another chance to start fresh.

One more for the night.

Body part discussions aside, tonight was the hands down best run I've had since I've started training. As I ran, I was thinking that this is what happiness feels like. Weird, huh? This must be the "flow" that they talk about, the "runner's high." I ran fast. I covered my five miles in record time. I just felt so good. I am excited to run tomorrow and looking forward to tackling this week's 16-miler on Saturday. Yep.

Who knew?

I had no idea that my butt was the object of so much attention. On Friday I was told that my jeans (that I thought fit well) were giving me saggy-ass (or some similar affliction). Today a work buddy commented that I needed to get this race over soon since I had lost my butt. She said that I'd had a good butt and now it was gone (she prefaced all this by saying she didn't mean any weirdness and considering the source, no offense was taken). While in the midst of this conversation another coworker chimed in saying that she too had noticed that I was now butt-less but hadn't said anything. These are my friends (and relatives).

So the question is, why do people only comment when it's gone? When I gain weight back post-marathon, will people suddenly compliment my newly regained bottom? Is it somehow more appropriate to discuss a shrinking body part than a growing one?

It cracks me up to think that I am not the only butt-watcher out there. You know, doing the butt comparison thing. You check out other butts and then rank where you fit. Maybe that's just me...

Still here (and still boring) part 2.

I keep hoping this running stuff will get easier, but so far it's still "work" every time. Yep-- at some point in every run I struggle.

I struggle mightily when chubby girls with big bottoms pass me on the trail. (I realize that my comment is politically incorrect but I don't care. It's not fair that I've put in miles and miles and still get passed by women who appear to have as much physical stamina as a creampuff.)

I struggle when I can't catch (never mind pass) old guys with wrinkled knees who are walking.

I struggle to catch my breath, calm my brain, and lift my feet.

The biggest struggle is deciding to put on my sneakers and get out each training day. I tell myself I'm excited and really, part of me is. But then there's the other part, the doubting part, that wonders why I'm doing this to myself. It's hard. It's tiring. It's time consuming.

Yet, I am doing this. I have a choice; no one is making me run. I could make excuses. I could just stop. But something is keeping me on schedule. On some level, I must like doing this.

Perhaps I'm masochistic.

I'm still here.

My boring-ness (or would it be "boringosity"?) has reached epic proportions. My life is work, food and running (although not necessarily in that order; food is probably the most important).

Actually, running is a little bit like work. It definitely demands the time of a second job. Maybe I should pay myself to run? I read an article in a running magazine where the woman trained for a marathon and "paid" herself a dollar for all the miles she ran in training. She had in the vicinity of $700. My rough calculations suggest that by marathon time I will have run about 400 miles since the beginning of August. So $400. That's a fair amount of money. $400 could get two (and a half) pairs of Frye boots. It could cover 100 Starbucks nonfat chi lattes with a slice of lemon loaf. If could be Christmas gifts for the family. It could be a plane ticket to someplace mildly exotic. $400 is a lot of money in my world. Of course, if I paid myself by the hour, I could make more. Actually, I don't think I could afford my hourly charge. Wait-- that doesn't work out. Nevermind.

Well?

Still waiting.

No epiphany yet.

Thighs are seemingly displeased with me and have not felt the need to inform the power of the universe that I should now be invited to join a higher plane.

In retrospect, maybe my love letter sounds too much like an apology or a justification. Maybe I need to try harder. Nah. There must be some other way to improve my karmic account.

Oh, and I ran four miles today which brings the current weekly total to 14. Fourteen more on Saturday.