But I continue to run. Two years ago, I ran 13.1 miles WITH a migraine. Two months after that, I ran the Wasatch Back Relay for the second time, and after my first 3 miles, I looked like this:
And two years, 15 pounds, and a baby later, I ran 3.25 miles today and rejoiced. Running is full of ups and downs.
One thing I loved about my long Saturday runs is the opportunity I had to view the rural community in which I live with new eyes; I saw things that I never would have noticed in a car. I often ran past these trees during my 5th mile, and I fell in love with them. I love that these three trees stand alone in a large field, and I love the way they look during each season. I ran by crowing roosters, red barns, and small farms selling asparagus. I've run in the crisp early morning hours when the sky is pink, the birds are chirping, and my neighbors are still sleeping. I've run under the noon sun when my sweat stung my hot cheeks. I've run alone in the middle of the Wasatch Mountains at 3:00 am, and seen glowing eyes looking at me from the tall grass on the side of the road, with a curious coyote on the road ahead. I have experienced disappointment, like when my teammate Blake had to run a mile for me during my third and last leg of my second Wasatch Back Relay because I was too wussy. Or when I began to lose my vision at the starting line of the SLC Half Marathon, signaling a quickly approaching migraine. But the triumphs have far outweighed the frustrations. Like when, with the support of my man, I decided to run the race I had worked so hard to train for, despite the migraine (with my cell phone in my sweaty hand, just in case). Or when I took over for Blake and finished my last torturous mile of the WBR on my own. Or when I ran two miles for the first time after having the baby.
Running kicks my arse. But when it's good, it's guuuuuuuuuuud.