“Treatment comes from outside of you; healing comes from within.” – Andrew Weil
Jimmy, my firstborn, called the other day and asked if I could watch Clyde this weekend. I never pass up an opportunity to spend time with any of my grand-dogs, plus Clyde and my Golden Bella are buds. Nervous, slightly paranoid, part pit/black lab/and who-knows-what else, Clyde is a sweetie. Just before I hung up the phone I remembered, “I won’t be around on Sunday.”
“Where are you going?” Jimmy asked.
“I registered for an ultra-marathon that was snowed out early this month and rescheduled to this Sunday.”
There you go. Over the past two months I’d written about my Mom, the Rocky movie Creed, ice running, the World Trade Center and aging, and I overlooked a 40-mile ultra-marathon. And this is supposed to be a running blog!
I remember following some ridiculously brutal training regimens for my early marathons that would leave me injured on race day. I’d toe the starting line with aching knees, sore feet and a stiff neck, and then suffer for 26.2 miles.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say I got smarter with age, but I have learned to go with what my body gives me. After I qualified and ran Boston in 2005, I made a pact with myself that from then on I would run simply for the joy of running. That’s not to say that my competitive gene doesn’t throb every now and then and I try to outdo myself, but I’ve learned to let my body have a say in whether it’s a good or bad idea.
“Are you ready for it,” Jimmy asked, referring to the race.
As running bloggers go, I’m probably inept, but I’m okay with that. As long as I feel good about what I write, the rest will take care of itself.