Agreeing to chronicle my training for the Thunder Road Marathon meant recording everything. Not a subjective everything, but literally everything, even if that meant sharing things I usually wouldn’t share, like a trip to the hospital. (If you tell me it’s because I’m dehydrated or malnourished, please take that logic or advice and stick it elsewhere, because I am hydrated and very well nourished.)   

September 1:  

Dear Wallet,  
I’m so sorry for the dents punches you are about to take. I know you’re screaming at me:  

“Why did you go to the hospital? Why did you let them do an MRI on your head when you knew they wouldn’t find anything? You know you can’t afford to go see a neurologist—no matter how much the insurance picks up, you still can’t afford the medical bills that you’re about to get slapped with. Heck, you’re still on Mommy and Daddy’s insurance.

You’re petrified and I can’t back you up on this. You thought paying for a new iPod or running shoes (speaking of which, you need to get a second pair) hit your bank account, just wait until the hospital bills show up. Just wait until you see three zeroes instead of two.

Just wait until tomorrow morning when you try to go for another run and you’re standing there paralyzed by fear. Fear that it’s going to happen again. That your vision will look like an old beat up box television, and your hands, feet, tongue and arms will go numb. That you’re so racked with fear that you just can’t bear the thought of sirens coming for you on the side of the road—it doesn’t matter that you’re the picture of health.  

It doesn’t matter that you’re 23 and training for your first marathon. It doesn’t matter how many people surround you and make sure that you’re going to be OK. It doesn’t matter they call 911 and wait with you until help gets there. It doesn’t mater that this, in minor forms, has happened twice before (you were 15 and 17). It doesn’t matter that the doctors couldn’t find anything then, and that they didn’t find anything today.  

Nope. You’re suffocating yourself in fear because you don’t need anything or anyone, and going to the hospital, being strapped onto a stretcher, having to put on that God-awful hospital gown, lying in an MRI chamber with a Hannibal Lecter mask around your head. All of those things took away your control.  

You claim you’re an easy-going person—that just about anything goes, when in reality, you’re a control freak! So stop freaking out about what kind of hits you think I can or cannot take.

You rant at the universe for having to buy a new iPod—welcome to the real world. Karma’s kicking your butt. Deal with it. Get over your pride and grow up. Far worse things are happening to good people. You’re going to get up tomorrow morning and run. You’re going to put today behind you, because you have to.”  

Love always,  
Your loquacious Wallet        

Distance should have been 3 miles. Distance: 1.2 miles. Time: 11 minutes, 40 seconds. Pace: 9 minutes 42 seconds.  Tomorrow’s distance: set for 4 miles – many prayers about that run.  

September 2: Three cheers for a successful morning run!  Distance: 4.01 miles. Time: 38:01. Pace: 9:29  Ate a banana and had a few sips of water before I ran this morning—just to be safe. I’m not sure that it even made a difference.

Throughout the run, I’d clench my fists just to make sure that I could feel my nails digging into my hands.  

Pre-run: Lying in bed, I awoke before my alarm contemplating if I should run.  

“What if it happens again” fear fed my mind spoonfuls of doubt. “What if you collapse this time, and there’s no one around to help?” I’ve said earlier that this process is about fostering honesty and trust. Being honest with myself meant acknowledging my fear, but trusting in this process also meant going out and running before work, even though I didn’t want to.  

Four weeks ago, I wouldn’t have done that. I would have curled up deeper into my cocoon of pillows and blankets. I would have turned off my alarm and went back to sleep, or slept through my alarm completely.

Going out there didn’t take my fear away—fear doesn’t have an off switch, but it does have a mute button. Somewhere around mile 3, when the tempo of “Animals” by Martin Garrix really picked up, I started praying (it’s my God time. I feel closer to Him when I’m running or in a stadium than I ever have in a church).

I gave myself a choice: let the fear of collapsing control me, or trust that this process has a purpose, my life has a purpose, that He’s doing more than I can see with every mile.

My stride quickened, and the weight went away—the fear of not being in control, it’s somewhere out there in the universe, but it’s not on my shoulders anymore.   

September 3: Distance: 3 miles. Time: 23:38. Pace: 9:12.

  
Humid. So humid. Why? It’s September. Why is it so hot and humid in September? Gosh. Enough!  

September 5: Distance: 9.01 miles. Time: 1 hour, 38 minutes 14 seconds. Pace: 10:54 Head pounding—ouch! Chocolate milk. Watered down orange mango juice (not from concentrate—I don’t like Gatorade or PowerAde or any of the other “electrolyte” drinks. Bleck. Foam roller…zzz.  

Running 9 miles—let us just take a moment to acknowledge them and the fact that I have no clue as to the last time I ran 9 miles prior to today. As I was saying, running 9 miles was supposed to make my headache go away. It didn’t.  
Motivation to get up off the floor: zero, nada, nope, none. Floor=comfy!  

September 6: Cross-train aerobic stationary biking. Distance: 11.53 miles. Time:  1 hour, 5 minutes. Average RPM: 57.

September 7: Rest Day. 

Change—it doesn’t happen overnight. A fairy godmother doesn’t appear out of thin air and create this brand new you.

Change takes time. It takes dedication and persistence, and a little bit of crazy (the good kind) to see this through. It’s not a cure-all to fixing every poor habit that you’ve clung to for so long that functioning without those self-destructive patterns seems incomprehensible. Moments still wash over you like waves when making those poor choices would be so much easier than walking away or even than doing nothing.

My sweet mother has been preaching “moderation in all things” for longer than I can remember. Rather than heed that advice, I’ve gone to extremes. Rarely has balance found a place amongst those extremes.

So tomorrow, I’ll run another 3 miles and pray that each stride brings me closer to a balanced life…and I bought another pair of running shoes. Adidas Energy Boost 2 for $34.98, nearly less than a quarter of the original price. Yay for outlets and Labor Day sales! I’ve put 60.27 miles on my new blue running shoes. Many more to come.

But which pair will I wear on race day? What will I wear on race day? Oh dear. Decisions, decisions.

Also:

Training is creating some changes in budget and attitude

Clear mind with an early run

The best run of my life, and comfortable earbuds

I'm running for myself, others

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