Today, day 192 on the road, it was time to stop. To sit still for a while, and breathe, and reconnect with myself.
Despite all the training and the planning and the absolute best of intentions, sometimes you wake up race morning, step out the front door, and just KNOW it’s going to be a terrible race. This year’s Flying Pirate Half Marathon in Kitty Hawk, NC was one of those races.
If I didn’t know better, I might start to think I’m jinxed. This was the second year in a row that I found myself running a crazy-hilly race on St. Patrick’s Day when my insides decided to be profoundly uncooperative. I may sit out a St. Pat’s race next year…
If you haven’t seen Barry Schwartz’s TED talk on the Paradox of Choice, well, I recommend it. I also feel like I’m living it these days — when the world is your oyster, where do you even begin?
Regardless of what I might have thought about the Lake Sammamish Half Marathon had events unfolded more auspiciously, it shall forever be recorded in my memory as the race without (enough) port-o-potties.
Today, I ran the hilliest race of my life, and I loved it. Loved it! (I’m actually writing this on race day for once, and it’s possible I’m still a little high on adrenaline, caffeine, and sugar… but still. It was awesome.)