There’s a milepost up ahead…

It’s hard for me to believe, but it’s been four weeks since the Victoria marathon. By now the sore muscles are nothing but a distant memory. My left knee and hip are no longer complaining. I really did run a full marathon and live to tell about it!

I haven’t felt much of a sense of urgency around going out to run. I’ve only been out five times in these past four weeks. Mostly I’ve been deliberately slow, but I did challenge myself one time to run a sub-60 minute 10K. I actually set a new PR for that distance — 59:10 — and I was happy to see that I still have some speed after all the months of focusing on mileage rather than pace.

So what’s up ahead for me?

I’m firm in my resolution not to run another full marathon any time soon… at least not until the year that I turn 60 or 65 or 70 or…? That is, not until a year when I’ll be among the youngest in my age group.

I tell myself that this is the fallow time of year, and that it’s the perfect time to back off the weekly miles a bit. But still, a regular 15-20 miles-per-week routine feels about right… and I’ll get back to doing that, soon.

I’m eagerly waiting for registration to open for a local race, the trail half marathon that I want to run in late April. I love the idea of doing an off-pavement race, which I’ve never done before. It’s another guaranteed PR!

I’m planning to run my local half marathon again next June. For this race I’ll set myself a challenging time goal. This slow happy runner is eager to do some speed work!

I bought the official race photos from Victoria, something I haven’t generally done because I never look like I’m running. This time, I really do look like I’m running! My finish line photos show a very determined yet happy runner, just seconds away from achieving something really big, something that I couldn’t have imagined five years ago — something that even six months ago had seemed a foolish and nearly impossible dream.

Big things are indeed possible, with ample preparation and a willingness to take things one step at a time.

Running guru John Bingham once said, “Some of us have to keep crossing those finish lines to remind us that we can.”

With each finish line I cross, I learn more about who I am, what I’m made of, what I’m capable of doing. Each finish line I cross makes the next one both a little more possible and a little more enticing.

There will definitely be more finish lines for me in the future. It’s likely that one of those finish lines will be more than 26 miles away from the starting line. But I can be content to wait a while before I aim for that one. I’ve got so many other places to go!

Every single milepost up ahead is a finish line of sorts, a finish line that is always out there urging me to do and be a little more, a little better, a little happier.

One step at a time.

Posted on November 10, 2013, in Running and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 15 Comments.

  1. What great pictures! And I love the running tights.

  2. Good pics of a banner race for you are always worth it. My brother ran cross country in high and a pic I took of him in his first finish still hangs on his wall.

    It’s good to be reminded that you can kick ass if you’ve a mind to!

  3. Nice pictures! Well done for finishing that marathon! Good luck with all the races you have planned too πŸ™‚

  4. Love the photo. You look like you own the race.

    • Yvonne, in that moment, it really does feel like you own the race. It didn’t matter that 1300+ people had crossed the line in front of me. The finish line announcer calls every name as each runner approaches the line. It feels like running in a tunnel until you hear your name — and then it’s all about YOU and that race is YOURS.

  5. I always catch the metaphors in what you share about the art of the run! I take your successful goal setting and achievement and apply what I learn to my own goals–I find inspiration. Your photos are just fantastic, Lori. I’m delighted you have them to memorialize your wonderful achievement. I think running and marathons–half or otherwise–is now a staple in your life and it’s exciting to run alongside your next adventures. πŸ™‚

    • Debra,
      I marvel at how I am going to look back at my life in future years and see my 50s as a decade of complete and utter transformation — finishing my PhD, learning to run, losing my husband to cancer, leaving the corporate world behind, falling in love again, finishing a marathon, and????
      I wonder what on earth my 60s may have in store for me! I do expect to keep running through it all.
      And yes, it does help to have the photos, for some future day when I might forget what this felt like.
      Maybe I SHOULD write a book. πŸ™‚

      • I think the book idea is an excellent one. I was telling someone the other day how much I love to read memoir. I always walk away having learned something. When you compile the list of such significant life changes all in one mid-life decade it really is quite amazing. I am glad you have the photos from your marathon, but I’m rather sure you will never really forget what tit felt like. πŸ™‚ I hope the exhilaration and the pride of accomplishment never leaves you! ox

      • And I guess the way to write a book is one word at a time, right? It’s not going to emerge fully “done.” πŸ˜‰

  6. Bruce Herrington

    So Lori, I think the REAL story is how you got from “never walk….” to Marathon Finisher. Sounds like a ‘medical miracle’ to me.

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