It’s only Wednesday and this week has already been hella busy (awwww, I miss “hella”).
Sunday morning was the Chevron Houston Marathon. I wasn’t running but was acting as an on-course coach for TNT. Woke up at 4:30 to get down to the team hotel next to the convention center. We snapped a team pic and walked over to have breakfast before the start. It was 40 degrees and starting to drizzle. By the time our particpants were crowding into the corrals, the rain was coming down. Our plan was to run 2 miles to the Mile 7 marker on the course and watch them pass. The wind was brutal and it was pouring by then.
Cool (oops, freezing) coaches – Paula, Ally, and me:
Ran with a few participants at Mile 7 before I ran 6 more miles out to the Tanglewood area of Houston (miles 16-20). I stuck around mile 18 and ran with everyone I saw – full marathoners only, of course. Took some great pics!
Coach Liz was walking with our final participant from her miles 12-16 station, and they picked me up to join the “sweep team.” Coach Jason joined us at mile 20 (he and I enjoyed beer at mile 21 – as opposed to last year when I almost threw up when I smelled the beer!).
Let me tell you – walking 8 miles is no freakin joke. And being on your feet for 9 hours is killer!! It was totally worth it to witness the heart and determination Christina had to cross the finish line. Houston is considered a “quick” race – 6 hour time limit. The sag buses kept asking if she wanted to get on and we told them no, keep going. She was going to finish!! She made her goal of 7 hours on the nose, and she was handed her medal and finisher shirt – I was a little choked up…I hadn’t felt that move to FINISH since it was my turn to just FINISH at San Diego 2010, and I told her that much. Look, dude. My first marathon, I had no idea what the FUCK I was doing. I finished in more than 6 hours….and now my feasible g0al is below 4 hours. What does that say? Time makes a difference.
After I pondered this on the course and spent time in my PJs at home (while downing 3 slices of pizza), I boarded a plane to Orlando for coaching certification. I got there right before midnight, and the bartenders were very understanding of my situation – they poured me the quivalent of 2.5 glasses of vino. I turned to the TNT (the entire hotel was LLS) gals next to me and asked, ” Did that guy just give me a roadie?” They were understandably jealous. Bc, hello.
Went to coach training on Monday, flew back the same afternoon. Spent all the time up until now being too exhausted to focus on anything else really.
I spent a lot of time (as much time as one can spend in 24 hours or fewer than) thinking about my relationship with Shane. Not everyone is so lucky to fall in love so young, so purely, and so hard. We were lucky, and that might have saved us. OR we have totally worked hard at making a life together. And it’s going to be a great one. And maybe I don’t know any better. Maybe I love cheesy T Swift songs because maybe, just maybe, Shane and I had a very pure and innocent love that’s still just as exciting. I wait every day to get out of work and come home, no matter what I have going on. I can’t wait to see him. Isn’t that the way it should be? Because it sort of feels like we’re out of place these days, and it’d be nice to fit in once in awhile – but at the same time, it’s so nice that we don’t.