Thursday, November 21, 2013

The "Two Week Rule"

I’m naked and vulnerable.  Or, at least I feel that way.  For the first time in five years, I have no training plan, no trainer, no race I’m registered for, or even have a race that I’m thinking about.  It’s dark more hours than it is light and my mind tells me it really wants me to eat the cookies, donuts, pies, endless empty, worthless calories that surround me at work during the holidays.  So, if I’m not running, what else do I want to do? 
Stay in a fetal position under the covers in my bed.  
Unfortunately, none of which are viable options (although my children would think that it was an awesome game of hide-and-seek).

Smile if you are reading this and have been a “victim” of my convincing ways, and thus, have signed up for a race with me.  Because of that inclination my friends, my sister has devised “the two week rule.”  Let me explain.  My runner’s high after a great race lasts about two weeks.  According to my sister, this is a crucial time to avoid me (including calls, texts, emails, Facebook posts, Instagram photos, etc.) unless you are ready to sign on for another race.  Apparently, I am more convincing during these two post-race weeks than during other times.  Here are a few examples of my “two week rule” of persuasion:  

My sister never wanted to do a half-marathon, nor two.  Yes, twice she has been a victim of my two week rule of persuasion. 

My friends said they could NEVER run that far and didn’t know how I did it.  Now, the superstar couple has matching medals to prove they both can.  Yep, more two week victims.

My cousin never wanted to do a full marathon.  After seven long hours and 16 miles of pouring rain we became “marathoners.”  She swore she’d never run another race with me again.  Yes, you guessed it, I’ve since talked her into running a half-marathon, even while wearing a tiara!

And it gets better.

So far in five years, I’ve run 14 half-marathons in eight states and always talked someone into joining me.  Even if it meant flying all the way across the country.  My largest gaggle of gals was a team of 23 “Sole Sisters” who went to Bellingham, Washington.  Oh the memories!   My longest half-marathon time?  3:25 and I did wearing a sock monkey costume. Perfect.

As I close on the end of my two-week high from running my fastest race to date in Savannah, Georgia (2:20), I’m going to sit in this uncomfortable place of limbo and cherish it.  No place to be.  No pressures to go anywhere.  Only me and the chatter in my brain.  Don't get me wrong, a couple of times I found myself searching for my next destination race.

For those of you who have fallen victim to my unwillingness to back down and take no for an answer:
Thank you for trusting me and taking a chance.
Thank you for stepping out of your comfort zone.
Thank you for being willing to see what your mind and body was capable of. 
Thank you for all the amazing memories and friendships made.
I wish you great health, happy days, and amazing memories. 
To many more memories to come…if one of you would just answer my call….

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