Today I ran the Marathon for Adoption in New Braunfels, TX. I am fairly well trained but did not actually realize the run was hilly. They call it rolling hills. As a Houston flatlander it seemed like Everest. The first 13.1 were brutal. The last three really tough. The mid 10 were ok. I was alone 75%.
It was so challenging that at mile 8 or 9 I quit looking at my watch. I had no idea of my pace or how far I had gone. All I wanted to do was stay true to my runs and walks. And I did. Remarkably enough I came in within 10 minutes of my goal time. I only broke down crying out loud (yes really out loud) twice. That may be a personal record.
I cry because it is hard and because I chose to do it and then because it is hard. Mostly I cry because Tom had the ever loving gall to leave me. And because he won't be at the aid stations and the finish line. He won't be at my stupid empty house to welcome me home and we won't have our metal ceremony. He won't hear all my war stories.
And here is the part where I usually quit being self-indulgent and feeling sorry for myself, and proud of my accomplishment and say really nice things about Tom watching me from Heaven etc.
But I'm tired. I ran a hard and good race today. And I am sad. We are moving in on 21 months and honest to God it was yesterday. And he is not at my finish line.
Tomorrow I will get out of bed, and stretch and be productive. Tonight I will be a bit sore all over, head to feet to heart.
Nite babe.
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