The good news is this: wacky winter weather caused the cancellation of the Myrtle Beach Marathon. I'm not sure that's good news really, just comforting for my ego. See... if I had endured this scary town and horrible weather to prep for this marathon, it would all have been for nothing anyway.
All sighs today. I miss running. Or, not so much the running, as the running outdoors in nice weather part. I miss the smell of the woods. I miss the feeling of mud squishing between my toes. I miss losing myself in effort, turning the brain off to favor the body. I miss the sensation of evaporating sweat. Gross, right?
Where did we go anyway? What happened? (Like anyone is paying attention anyway).
Life, in short. It has been almost a year since we started and subsequently abandoned this blog and goal. My sister and I both have had eventful lives in that time. I can't help but wonder if this marathon goal actually did function as a kick in the pants for the both of us.
To quote myself (really, why not? blogs are inherently narcissistic, aren't they?)
Just because you end up on the path, if it’s not really where you want to go, you don’t have to finish. It’s not quitting. It’s being honest.
There's a story to go along with that, but appropriately, I have never finished it :) Gee, that makes me giggle.
If you're bored, below is part one of the story, though you should be warned that I may never produce part two, and you will ever be bereft of a suitable ending.
In the summer of 2005, my friends invited me to spend a weekend camping at Yosemite National Park. I suspect the reasons for inviting me on this trip had less to do with the value of my company and more to do with an act of charity. Still suffering from too-fresh memories of Iraq and a recent gut-wrenching end to a four-year relationship, I had little interest in doing anything. Agreeing to join the trip was a big step for me. It was no surprise then that despite much cajolery, I refused participation in their plan to hike 17 miles round-trip to Half Dome. The morning of the hike, they left around 5am. Refusing to leave my sleeping bag, I wormed myself outside and into a camp chair to stare at ducks in the rising sun. Eventually motivated by guilt and shame from not joining in the hike, and maybe a little uplifted by watching those ducks racing in the Merced River, I strapped on my backpack and set off to have my own solo adventure. It started innocently enough. I just wanted to walk. By myself. Somewhere. Until I was done.
I wandered through the park aimlessly, dismissing several trailheads that failed to ignite my curiosity. Then I saw the sign for Upper Yosemite Fall. 7.2 miles round-trip. Okay, I could do that in my sleep (usually did in those days). "Strenuous," it said. I thought, well, the ratings are based on the average person's fitness level. I'm not average. So, "strenuous" equals "worth my time."
Not the most sensible thought I ever had. There is reason humility is a virtue.
That particular day, the temperature was in the mid 90s. I was wearing sneakers, a pair of jeans, a five dollar tank top, and an LL Bean backpack containing nothing more than an eight-ounce bottle of water and a paperback. I began the walk, enjoying the beautiful scenery and just trying to be content with breathing. Not too far into the trail, I noticed a couple of women ahead of me. I wasn't feeling social, so I picked up my pace and as soon as they paused for relief, I squeezed past them and raced ahead to buy myself some space. I had some vague inclination to find a cozy spot in the woods for me and that paperback. I climbed until I spotted another person ahead of me and repeated the previous strategy. After dozens of switchbacks, several miles into the hike, I kept passing people. The lone Boyscout. The lovely pair of Brits. A miserable looking family. With every one, my determination to pass the next person grew. And grew. Faster. Climb faster, weakling. You're winning! You'll beat them all to the top!!
Then there I was, gasping and grasping rock on a particularly bare portion of the trail, baking in the sun, muscles shaking from fatigue, soaked in sweat, dizzy, with a growing headache and not a single drop of water or bite of food.