Lately, I haven't been doing pre-race posting, just doing write-ups after. Not sure why. I think part of me is nervous that if I talk about the race beforehand, it will make me more nervous.
I'm racing on Sunday, doing the Flip Flop Half Marathon. I haven't had any heart palpitations since my last race, have cut way back on the speed training, and have been taking the last couple of weeks very easy. Hopefully that will all add up to a strong, recovered heart for Sunday's race. I'm not going to try to P.R. or anything. I will try my best to keep it under control, just going slightly harder than my normal long run effort. If I go over my heart rate zone and I'm running 13 minute miles, then fine, that is my pace for that day.
1) I want to finish
2) I don't want to walk (which basically means I don't want heart palpitations, my only reason for walking
3) I want to enjoy myself
I'm reading Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, so I'm sort of paraphrasing his goals for the 2005 New York City Marathon.
I've never read any of Murakami's other books, and I'm not sure whether I ever will. I think I must be a boring kind of person who runs as a hobby and lately is only interested in books about running. He's a great writer, and I'm sure his novels are wonderful, but lately I'm sort of a two-note person: mommy and runner.
There's a lot in the book that I'm enjoying, and quotes that I could bookmark, but the one paragraph that struck a chord with me the most is this one:
"I don't care about the time I run. I can try all I want, but I doubt I'll ever be able to run the way I used to. I'm ready to accept that. It's not one of your happier realities, but that's what happens when you get older. Just as I have my own role to play, so does time. And time does it job faithfully, much more accurately, than I ever do. Ever since time began (when was that, I wonder?), it's been moving ever forward without a moments rest. And one of the privileges given to those who've avoided dying young is the blessed right to grow old. The honor of physical decline is waiting, and you have to get used to that reality."