Sweetness. $136 later, I am officially registered for the ING New York City Marathon. The message that came up after I clicked “submit” read:
You have a confirmed spot in the 2008 ING New York City Marathon!
Exclamation point, indeed. I’ll let the NYRR’s lift it up, since after all my striving to guarantee my entry to this race, now that no one can refute me my rightful place on Staten Island on November 2, 2008, all I can think is: since that’s done, may I go to bed now?
Normally, I’d be much more energetic in my excitement over this unimpeachable, indubitable, undeniable notice of my participation in this race. But, I am completely wiped out. Flattened with exhaustion, poor nutrition, and lack of exercise. No running since Sunday, you see, and a grim amount of working over the past three days (30 hours, to be exact*). It’s nearing 8pm, and I could lay down on my bed and sleep straight through till dawn. I’m not complaining. Nope, none of that here. But, every time I find myself in this situation (i.e. flattened), and I opt to “take it easy” because I’m feeling depleted, and not go for that scheduled run, I end up exponentially tired. I know better; I know the costs to myself, those around me, and the quality of work I produce when I neglect my basic self-care trinity.
I did have enough energy to celebrate when my April issue of Running Times showed up earlier this week. My hero Kara Goucher is on the cover, and half the issue is dedicated to the Women’s Marathon Olympic Trials. I delicately set my RT aside to read when I could savor it, but I broke down this morning and toted it with me during my commute. Straight to Kara’s profile, but lo! Oh thrilling discovery! RT flopped open to a Brian Sell centerfold! (I swear I read this magazine for the articles.) A double-sided poster, one side him gritting it out on the course, the other him jubilantly wrapped in the flag at the finish. Exclaimed out loud with joy and amusement, right there on the 7 train, with all sorts of cranky worker bees around me. My outburst was loud enough that I even startled the droopy-eyed ipoder two bodies over. Brian Sell and Kara Goucher? Too much for me to handle before my morning cuppa.
The remaining ten minutes of my commute were hijacked by thoughts of Brian. Did he get to approve the photos beforehand? Was he amused by the centerfold? Did his agent insist on it? (No, that doesn’t sound right.) Got to work, tons of work, but was compelled to google Brian. Most of what came up was timed around the Trials, like this post about how he went to work two days after his marathon. Refreshing, that. Someone else is set upon with tasks the second they arrive at work. (I had tasks too but decided to scuttle them for five minutes so I could google lovely Brian. *Must adjust hours worked to 29 hours 55 minutes.)
Foot update: Toenail still black. Right arch still sprained but feeling less achey today. Need to apply The Stick to right calf.
Off to walk dog. Then to bed. Sweetness.
