More than words.
“Why am I doing this?”
It’s a question that keeps surfacing, one that I’m supposed to be thinking about and solidifying to be the great motivation behind why I want to train for and run Boston. What’s going to get me out the door when it’s negative 10 degrees and I have to run 20 miles? What’s going to be the thing that pushes me towards the finish line on April 20th? And every time I’m asked it, my brain hurts. My tongue hangs out of my mouth. I freeze.
Which is odd for a girl who loves words. When I was little I would tell story after story without taking a single breath. When I ran out of material I would simply start all over again. I give descriptive paragraphs to questions that need one word answers.
So why does this question leave me completely baffled? Why do I stumble so hard? I could give the obvious, pre-fabricated answers such as that this is a logical progression after 13.1. Will run for medals. I want to prove to all those who doubt me that I can actually do this. Marathons are bad ass. I’ve got an incredible group of individuals who I am raising money and running on behalf of.
All of those answers are great. And true in some form. But they’re not “it”. They’re not the answer that fires up the grill. They’re not the answer that brings me to tears when I try to picture April 20th. And it frustrates me to no end that I can’t find the right words.
In the last month or so my hip pain started coming back… and just for shits and giggles in BOTH hips, which clearly isn’t a good thing when you’re about to start training for a marathon. In a weak “I’ll try ANYTHING” moment I agreed to see a chiropractor. And (knock on wood) so far it’s been doing WONDERS. If this shit really works, I will gladly start the process for this guy to be next on the canonization list.
During my most recent appointment I laid on my side with my pants halfway down (classy, right?), grimacing as this tool (which I’m pretty sure could double as a vegetable peeler) was literally scraping into my hips. Which made me think “This is crazypants. Who puts themselves through this kind of torture? At this point wouldn’t a normal person just throw in the towel and move onto a new hobby?”
Crazy people. That’s exactly it. Crazy people who want to run 26.2 miles. Crazy people who want to run from Hopkinton to Boylston Street. Crazy people who want to put themselves through all this hard work and miles and suffering and PAIN for an experience they can’t even imagine! Crazy people who know this is one of the most important things they’ll ever do – even if right now they can’t find the words to justify it.