Monday, September 1

Labor Day lines up with the first of the month in satisfying synchronicity. I'm off work and just back from my trip to Marquette, so really it feels like the eighth day of the previous week. I started school last Monday — two classes, one of them entirely online — and ran my marathon on Saturday. Here's what I learned: don't underestimate yourself. 

All summer long I struggled to gain momentum. My training felt sluggish and ineffective, and I wasn't even sure why I was still doing it. I spent the past month tempering my expectations, convincing myself I was grossly undertrained. I slept poorly the week of the race. The drive north, which I usually love, felt like an upstream slog against holiday weekend traffic. I arrived in Marquette later than I wanted to and had generally written off my chances of finishing in under four hours.

The sun rose through the mist in Turner-esque drama. I shivered in the dawn chill at the starting line, trying to summon my usual race day excitement, wondering how I’d find the motivation needed to carry myself the distance. Four miles into the race I was still searching for motivation, yet somehow maintaining a brisk 7:40 pace. I’d started out in the front third of the field, assuming I’d fall back pretty quickly. I did, but not by much. By mile nine I’d settled into a groove and came to a surprising realization — I had grit. A whole wellspring of it earned from 11 previous marathons and 16 years of running.

Having a clear motivating factor is helpful, but sometimes you just have to rely on your guts and put one foot in front of the other.

I hit the wall early around mile 17, and had to lean pretty hard on that grit to get me through the last nine miles, most of them along sunny, placid Lake Superior. At mile 26, the finishing chute appeared before me with the great bulk of the Yooperdome just behind it. I found my kick and sprinted the last 200 meters with a smile on my face, passing another runner a few feet ahead of the finish line just for the hell of it. It was one of the best races I've ever run and I was only a few minutes off my PR. I had completely counted myself out before I even started. In hindsight, how could I not know I had this in me? Sometimes you just have to go through it to come to a simple truth. It felt like a turning point in what has been a rather desultory year. 

Back in Ypsilanti my legs still ache, but my head feels better. My attitude has improved and I can feel some creative momentum building. If I can make a comeback like I did in Marquette, I wonder what else I can do?