My Dearest Running -

I know we're struggling. We've reached a bumpy patch of road, and we're tripping all over the place just trying to stay up-right. It happens...but usually not this bad, and certainly not to *us.*

I admit that I haven't been as good to you as I could be, as I should be, or as I need to be. I haven't kept up my promises, and I've fallen back into old habits - dangerous habits. There's not nearly enough stretching. There's rarely any post-run refueling, especially in the desired time span or carb-to-protein ratio. The foam roller sees very little action. And, sadly, there is absolutely no strength training. I'm mortified and disappointed.

It seems like I've totally forsaken you. Yet, you're still there for me.

You have to beg me to spend time with you. Plead. Whine. Threaten. And when I do spend time with you, my mind is elsewhere. Not focused on you, the way it should be, but drifting off to review exam questions or compose sentences about the anterior cruciate ligament. We're not connecting.

It's so unfair to you. Because I know how great we are together. And I know that if I worked at it just a little harder, we could be amazing. Right now, you're fighting for my affection and attention. But right now, I'm feeling like too little butter spread over too much toast.

I hope you can be content with what I have to give you. You've been patient so far. Just bear with me a little while longer.

Perhaps I can offer some consolation to you with these words: You are my true love, my soul (sole) mate and I will never be able to leave you. If you ever left me, I know that I would never be able to get over you. Ever.

For now, I only ask that you accompany me to Boston, without expectations or judgement. Instead of focusing on what *could* have happened there, let's just enjoy each other's company, and revel in the time we have together on that famous course. If you feel the need to throw some pain my way, just to remind me of all we've been through, I will welcome the chance to feel that alive.

Four weeks, and we'll have our day.

Most affectionately,

Running Chick

Less than six weeks to go until Boston, and I have very exciting news.

Very. Exciting.

Are you sitting down?

For the first time in Running Chick history, I do not have a single purple toe nail.

Not. One.

All ten toes have their nails intact and are pink and healthy (Relatively speaking. I've still got ugly runner's feet. Let's be realistic here.)

The rest of me is holding up pretty well, although I admit I could be feeling better. There is occasional tightness in the troublesome ITB, but some time on the foam roller usually irons it out. There are blisters, but nothing painful. An inflamed Achilles tendon. And there's been some cramping in the muscles of the feet and the gastrocs, but only when I'm *not* running.

I've only got two 20 milers left of the schedule, and I just knocked out a 22 miler last weekend which went really well. Set a training PR, actually. Admittedly, I was on a flatter course than usual. But still. A good confidence booster.

I may not be 'thriving' - having had to give up swimming and biking as well as one yoga class a week in order to balance running with my other commitments - BUT I am surviving. Even outside of my running life, things like a dead car on the highway in a rainstorm and sick family members is not enough to knock me down.

Daylight savings time happens this weekend. The weather will warm back up to 40-50F. And most importantly, I'm not dead yet.

Until I become worm food, I'll keep pushing forward and testing my limits. How else will I be able to discover how much is too much?