I Love Running, I Hate Running, I LOVE Running…

There are many things in life I have a love/hate relationship with: mornings, jeans…RUNNING.

I hate the first five minutes. Without fail, every single run. It’s a struggle to get the legs going, get my head in the game. It is often at this point where the decision as to how far I’ll go is made. Or not made, in some cases.

I hate the sore, the pain, the aftermath of a particularly sucktastic run.

I hate the rebuilding of your base mileage after time off. Knowing what you CAN do, HAVE done, but not being ABLE to do it.

I hate that my thighs don’t cooperate with the super cute running skirts out there. Thigh rubbage + shorts = no bueno. For anyone.

I hate the stress and anxiety of sticking to a training plan.

BUT…

I love the twinge of jealousy I feel when I see someone running outside while I am driving in the car.

I love the confidence, self esteem, and sense of accomplishment gained from conquering 13.1.

I love and cherish my friendships made on the trails.

I love the example I am setting for my boys.

I love the ME that I am when running consistently.

Sunday was slated to be a typical long training run, the last before my May 6th Half. As always, trying to schedule anything with two other busy mammas proved difficult and I ended up on my own for this one. In the past, this would have done me in. I would have either ditched the run all together or powered through 8 or 9 and called it a day.

It may sound cheesy or completely cliché, but something happened on this run that has never happened before and I have no idea why. I wish I could bottle it up the awesomeness for future use.

Having run many training runs on this particular trail, I decided to run out and back 4, stop at my car, pick up my new handheld water bottle, and then head out for the remaining 8.

Throughout the first four miles, I still held out hope that one of my Best Running Friends would text that she was on her way. Meanwhile, I struggled to find my legs and had to reset the mind for a new game plan: 12 solo miles. I headed out for four, found myself back at the car, and picked up my water bottle. There are only two water stops on the trail and I knew I had to suck it up can carry my own. I haaaaaaated running with the water, but perhaps that made the difference?

Headed out for 8. Mentally telling myself I hadn’t just run 4 and only had 8 to go today. Four out, four back.

I purposefully left my g-mo at home. When running with the Garmin, I find myself obsessively checking the mileage and pace, pushing myself harder to reach a certain time. Instead, I ran with my iPhone and the Nike+ app LOVING the little applause that played each time someone liked the post. I wanted to track the mileage, but not necessarily the pace.

The miles weren’t flying by, but they were falling by the wayside nicely. My pace was surprising as I was running comfortably, following my find the JOY in running plan. I was grateful for my water. It as warm, even at 7:30.

I got back to the car and my mileage was at 12.44. I noticed a sub-2 was easily in sight. I threw my belt and water bottle in the car and headed out for the last .6 or so. If I did it, awesome. If not, okay.

I have never in my life had such an amazing 13.1. Certainly, NEVER during a training run. I knew that I would be running Divas for fun. I have never looked at that race in any other way. My two BRFs will be taking some time off and it will be our last hurrah together. I have every intention of crossing that finish line WITH both of them, something we have never done in our three years of running together.

I am certain that the cross training has paid off.

I am thrilled that my body knows what to do.

I am less than thrilled that it appears a handheld water bottle seems to be the way to go. Any tips on how to carry this without hating it?

More than anything, I LOOOVE how this run made me feel. Kick ass. Strong. Confident.

I LOVE RUNNING.