My sister and I are training for a marathon. My first. Last night we completed our sixteen mile run.
If you've never done it, and likely even if you have, 16 miles is a freaking long way to run! (unfortunately not nearly as long as 26). But really, every time I start to complain about this mess I've run myself into, I think, when else in my week can I engage in uninterrupted, adult conversation for so long? And, with my sister at that? So what if my feet have to move while I'm doing it?
So in the end I enjoy the long runs, for the comradery, the personal challenge, the strength I feel, and the dedicated time to myself. But, neither my waxing poetic, or complaining about the pain really does it justice, so instead I leave you with a true to life conversation at the finish of our 16 mile run last night:
Warning: graphic, may be disturbing to those unfamiliar with long distance running...
J: That was a good run.
H: Yeah, except for the stomach cramping.
J: Right, that and shitting in the woods.
H: Well, right. But it was probably our best route yet, hardly any hills.
J: It was nearly flat. Except for that big ass hill in the very beginning...
H: and the one we just walked up.
H: This chaffing sucks.
J: My foot is bleeding.
H: Man, I smell.
Rob: How was your run?
J: It was good.