Grasslands Marathon

When I got home from Grasslands yesterday I told Evan that it was a super hard race and I never felt good, but I had so much fun and it was just what I needed. He looked down and just shook his head.

His reaction made me think so much about why it was just what I needed. What about it made me feel so whole, so once again satisfied with the mundaneness of day to day life? I totally understand why he doesn't get it. I've never cared that he wasn't a runner, he supports me 100% and listens to my endless runner babble. But I feel like I needed a way to explain why running a marathon in a sand pit after I've been sick for a week and a half in 85 degree weather is my idea of a good time.

I feel so alive when I run. Every pore and every cell in my body is working in harmony to accomplish the same goal. I can feel every part of my body. At some point everything hurts. That hurt just travels to different areas and you have to know that it won't last. I feel even more alive when I run trails. I loved the sand because it made it hard, I loved last year's mud, I love creek crossings, I love the cows, I loved the gates, I just love being outside. Nothing is really pretty about Grasslands. Everything is dead, there's nothing stereotypically pretty about it. And yet, it's wonderful. I loved the scenery and the tiny patches of purple flowers that you would come upon. I loved the cows blocking the trail and having to stop to open the gates and shut them again so the cows wouldn't get out.

I've spent the last week and a half with the worst cold I've had in years. Because this past week was spring break I spent it on the couch bored out of my mind and feeling sorry for myself. I got so antsy and so miserable. I didn't have the energy to run or lift weights but I wasn't so bad that I just slept all day. I was very worried about running a trail marathon under these conditions. Finally, Friday I started feeling good. Took some Tylenol Cold and Sinus and allergy medicine and spent the day out of the house. I didn't know what Saturday's marathon would bring me but I was feeling better about it.

The first 45 minutes were pure hell. My heart rate was off the charts, I could barely get my legs to function and mucus was pouring out of my head faster than I was running. And then...I felt great. I could breathe, my heart rate got back to normal and my legs ran the next 3 miles like they finally remembered how to run. It was awesome. I knew then that I would finish and my cold was now a distant memory.

Unfortunately, those 3 miles were the only miles my legs actually ran well. After that until the end it was a total slog-fest. Yes, it was so sandy. Running on a beach that has never been touched by the ocean, sandy. Sand everywhere. Snot everywhere. But the main thing is I just didn't feel strong. My legs weren't my legs.

The best part was I knew it didn't matter. I didn't have a time goal, this wasn't an A race for me, I was just out there to have fun running. And I did. I had a great time, this runner's high will last me for weeks. Having done so many long runs this year and Palo Duro 50k and TransRockies 3 day, I knew that I could keep going. It was excruciatingly slow, but I knew I could just keep going. So I just settled in and enjoyed the day under the circumstances that I was given.