Good Night, and Good Luck

Alright everyone, take a seat. I've got some big news.

After a lot of soul searching and thinking and stressing and obsessing, I've made a decision.

I'm stepping down from marathon training.

Throwing in the towel. Turning off the light. Taking a hike. Bowing out.

Why, you may ask? You've been training so hard, you may say. You're almost there, you may plead.

And the answer for all of these is: I'm not happy. And I'm not having fun. I'm straight up dreading it.

I've kept up with my training for over a year, and as I started getting into the 10+ mile weeks, I realized I was dreading every run. Every mileage increase. Everything. I'd already succumbed to the fact that I probably wasn't going to "run" the entire thing - so what's the point?

I headed out for my long run with Scott on Saturday morning, and part of the way through I just stopped running. He stopped, too, and asked me what was wrong.

And I just stood there with tears in my eyes and said, "I don't want to do this."

He said, "I know."

So we walked a little and talked about it, and I realized I wasn't doing it for me. I didn't even know why I was doing it anymore. It was a chore, it wasn't something I was enjoying.

I finished out a brisk 2+-mile run, and then came home to let my brother know. I was terrified he'd be mad or disappointed, b/c he's been so incredibly supportive. But he wasn't at all. He told me he was proud of me for all of the hard work I'd put into it, and that he supports whatever I decide to do.

So I'm going to change my bib to the 10K, which is only 6 miles (I know, "only"). I know I'll enjoy it.

I plan to keep running, but for me. Not because I have to. But because I want to. I do enjoy the shorter runs, the ones that cap at 4 or 5 miles. And it's been an incredible experience, knowing that I can push myself to the greater distances of 8 and 10 miles.

But for my body and for my spirit, I'm gonna sit this 26.2 out.