|Oh, hey Madison morning skyline!|
I don't know if it's the recent front of cool weather, my gorgeous new cityscape, or simply my constant desire to buy new shoes, but I have been itching to run another race.
Hearing Kenzie's dad talk about the Tyranena Half Marathon initially peaked my interest, but also feeling pretty good during my past few runs made me even more confident that Tyranena would be the perfect race to get me back in my running groove.
1) It's close to my new home - check!
2) The course is one loop; no repeats or out and back - check!
3) The race is at a brewery, meaning all sorts of delicious beer at the finish line - check!
|It's not even called a half marathon. It's called a Half Barrel. What up Wisconsin.|
This all seems fine and dandy, right? I've run four half marathons before, I finally feel like I have gotten my health issues under control, and it's the perfect season to train (yay fall!) But my one lingering problem is that I can't get out of my own head.
Try as I might, any strange grumble in my stomach or shoe tied too tightly or sun shining too brightly in my eyes sends me into a downward spiral of self-doubt which results in me being entirely convinced that I am no longer cut out to run long distances.
While I have tried desperately to drown out the vampires in my head with The White Panda, even his bumpin' base lines are no match for the Negative Nancys in my head.
I realize that there actually are not people or evil monsters in my head. It might be more disconcerting that I'm playing all of these roles in my own head. Let's not go there.
So what's a former runner girl to do? The plan right now is to put my training workouts on my calendar so that they are staring me in the face everyday. And then I'll just do them as best I can. Don't shoot for a time, don't attach all sorts of meaning to each footfall, just run. Then maybe all the Nancys and vampires will shut up and realize that this in one aspect of my life in which my body can take over and my mind can just be concerned with oncoming traffic. My legs are capable of running 13.1 miles, my mind just needs to let them do their running thing.
The next step will be to send my money in and get officially registered for the race. I can talk a big game about conquering my emotional hang-ups on the blog, but if I don't register for real, I won't have any monetary investment holding me accountable for my training. I also won't have a bib or a drink ticket. Which means no beer when I cross the finish line. And that will not do.
That being said, anyone want to run with me? Notre Dame is away that Saturday and it's a very reasonable drive. Think about it. We can drink beer on the finish line together.