I can't believe I ran 20 miles on the 16th (two days ago.) The day: sunny and warm, not a suggestion of wind and the sky the bluest blue only Nevada can offer. I wish I could say I ran it in two hours, or that it felt amazing. Truthfully, I was so nervous I wouldn't make it the entire distance that I was a nervous wreck the first half and the second half I was exhausted from being so nervous for the first portion of the run! I opted out of the body glide, which was a bad choice (ouch!) -- yet, those final two miles, I picked up the pace and finished my run with tears in my eyes. Tears, not from pain, but from joy.
Dare I say I'm back? That I have potential? I want so badly to come back to competitive running, to the marathon. I want a life filled with miles. I want to win another race. Such goals seem farther away than the 20 miles I ran and yet-- dare I say: I believe.
It's a feeble belief right now, I admit. There is so much to do, and so much fitness to gain. And yet, I believe. Perhaps I'm crazy.
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