I've been putting off the run for about 3 hours, filling my morning with Very Important Things to Do like reading interviews with Cherie Currie and Joan Jett. I've scouring the internerd for details about premiers, watched old live videos of the band on YouTube, and shopped for the perfect leather jacket that I never replaced after college. I've fried an egg, done photography business, checked the weather, sipped coffee, checked out new personal budgeting software, done a dark eye makeup (for a run?), and not to be graphic, but changed my tampon way more than once. This last detail might shed some light on my resistance to running. Or it may also be just another soldier in a long line of uniforms, each taking a turn waving the heavy banner of I Don't Want To. But let me make this clear, the sloughing off of the uterine wall on a monthly basis continues to enrage me in many ways, not the least of which is how much money tampons cost over the course of a functional menses lifetime. Now it brings new obstacles into focus as I sit here, bloated, in my sausage outfit before my long Saturday attempt. The course for the day is to finally cross the magical 10 mile barrier which I have yet to do. Didn't happen in Bolinas. I'll get to that list of excuses/reasons upon my return.
What I want to highlight here is that I leave part one of today's entry not sure if I can make the distance, a very clear wavering of faith in myself and my ability to run, and feeling a little bit lonely with a low grade case of terror I hope to burn off by the first two miles. Just yesterday I was in a more positive place.
My co-worker was saying she felt she'd like to set a goal for herself in terms of athletic things. P.S. This woman is ripped. She is a gorgeous old-school goth who I refer to lovingly as The Queen of Darkness. This was after my friend Grant told us yesterday at work that he plans to swim to Alcatraz. Go Grant!!! Personally, that seems incredible to me. Well the Queen of Darkness, a mightily chiseled Queen at that, said she thought maybe she could do a half marathon, but a whole one might be too much. And I told her I can't really think about it like that. I mean, I can't run 26.2 miles. But I can run one mile, and all I'm going to try is to do that 26 times in a row. Today I'll try it 11 times. Or, well, that's the plan.
My planned route was foiled by train track construction on Church Street. Personally, I have found that having a plan really guarantees me the best chance I have at improvement. Whenever I waver from the plan, I end up accomplishing less than I would like. It's like on Celebrity Rehab when Dr. Drew says I wanna go home means I wanna use. Well in my life, I want to change my route means I want to quit and go home sooner. The plan included taking the 22 bus up to Haight and Stanyan and running the last leg of the marathon course and tacking on a few miles at Market which would have landed me at a MUNI stop with a nice J train waiting to bring me home. Since that wasn't going to happen, I happily thought HOORAY this is a perfect reason not to run today! Then I realized just how willing I am to have such a feeble excuse to get out of things. I mean, here I am reasoning that a public transportation situation is why I can excuse myself for the day. From running. On my feet. Which a lady can pretty much do from anywhere. So I decided I would just run by time and run longer than I had ever run before. And I did!!!! I made it 2 hours and 3 minutes. That's three minutes past my longest. I know it's not much, but by then end, I was downright geriatric. Everything ached. It was all uphill from the beach. UUUGGGHH. I am happily taking my exhausted ass to bed. Normally I don't write here on Sundays, but It seems I have some loose threads to tie up so I will see you tomorrow for a cameo.