Does this make you nervous? I am a lone runner. I don’t have a pack or a posse or even a partner. I prefer the solitude & enjoy the silence. It’s just me, myself & moi. That’s not to say I’m not connected. I carry a phone & my kisa always knows where I
run de-stress (meltdown, freak out, spontaneously burst into flames). And then there are my angels, always watching.
And, does this nerve you up? I train by my brain alone. I don’t follow Mr. KnowItAll’s 16 week plan. I haven’t consulted Ms. Nineteen Marathons & Counting’s foolproof schedule. My “plan” came from moi and it is pretty simple – one mid-range run, one long run & one recovery run. No more, no less. It’s what I did for the half mara in Toronto and it’s what I’m doing for Bright Light Vegas. Snapshot: right now I am eleven weeks into my training. Right now I’m 52 days out from the mara. Right now, middie runs are eight miles, long runs are 16+, and recovery runs are around four. As time goes on, the numbers will increase: nine, eighteen, five. Then ten, twenty-ish, six. Every other day of the week is taken up with yoga (six days a week with intensity on non-
run rage days), PT (six days a week, again with intensity on “off” days) and strength training (four days a week – again, non-run days). That. Is. It. That’s my plan. Nutshell format.
But. But! But, here’s what makes me nervous. This run was supposed to be for me, myself and moi to mourn the loss of my favorite cousin. He died on the streets of Vegas and it’s there I want to leave my buckets of sweat and oceans of tears. I don’t care for Vegas but so be it. I was expecting to purge my rage, my sorrow, my never-ending guilt and grief on those said-same streets. I allowed only one person to be on my right wing for the 26.2. Someone who would understand the code of silence and just let me be. I was thinking without added distraction I could run the race the way my heart and hurt wanted. I could think about how pain creates strength and how homeless doesn’t always mean helpless. I would work my way out of the maze of Why. It was the perfect plan until I heard four little words. I.Will.Be.There. What? What do you mean? You’ll be where exactly? Before I knew it “I’m coming with you to Vegas” became “WE will be there” with an added “Oh, did I mention? I’m coming and I’ve invited so and so, too” Too many until I lost count. Now it’s a fukcing family reunion. How did this happen? This isn’t a party. This isn’t a vacation or even an Elvis induced Cadillac joy ride. This is my mecca. This is something I have to do. I’m flying in for the run and leaving just as fast as my recovery will let me wheels up. Now there are expectations. I am visible and therefore vulnerable. I am so scared. I don’t want people to see my purge – the puke of pent up pain. I don’t need any other witnesses to the massive meltdown I just know I’m gonna have at the finish line. I don’t want to have to explain myself.
I’m scared of the circus Vegas has become.