Just looking over the calendar and realizing how quickly Black Mountain will be upon me. I ran just over 12 miles on Saturday at Warrior's Path in Kingsport near Amy's parents. This is where the love hate part of this goal comes quite clear. I'm dancing with the devil here. The thoughts of some etherial goal out there just beyond the stretch of fingers is addictive and intoxicating. Yet forcing myself back into the training regemine it will take to deliver me ready and worthy is like pulling proverbial teeth (molars here folks). I guess part of it's fear. Will my body handle this? That's a really long time, a lot of pounding, do I really want to put myself through this??? This isn't even mentioning the looming skeleton in the closet from Shut-In. Apparently there's a calf devouring monster on race day somewhere out there. It found me just shy of twelve miles at Shut-In and gnawed a little at the quads too.
And then I'm out there on the trail feeling the exertion, listening to the gasps, feeling the sweat pouring even on a cold day and the little voice is almost silent. Then I'm just hearing, seeing, smelling, even tasting the goal and already day dreaming out the next run and ensueing training. It feels good to be getting back into the swing of this. Twelve miles felt like such a huge distance and I guess still does. Running for over two hours wasn't ever anything I truly envisioned myself doing. And the truly tragic part is that I can't piss and moan over even the marathon distance because of my demented pack of friends that decided almost at the same exact moment that I was digesting the decision to run a marathon, to sign up for an Iron Man Triathalon. You know a marathon just isn't enough for these maniacs. No they need to swim 2.4 miles and bike 112 miles before they run their marathon. Did I mention these guys are all diabetic. Talk about stealing thunder, talk about emasculating your good budy Zircon. I mean just when I was thinking I'd bit off something that would be an admirable accomplishment not really for bragging rights mind you, well ok maybe for bragging rights in my own schitsophrenic inner dialogue. But now the guy across the hall who never really ran before is going to knock off the KING KILLER ACCOMPLISHMENT! OH yeah and he's doing it without a fully functioning pancreas. Madness I tell you. At least I'll be able to say I knew him before he was famous. Maybe I'll even get a cameo shot in the documentary their making about these guys. What delusions of grandeur???