Keeping up.

I know I've mentioned my life-long goal of running a full, 26.2-mile marathon either before or while I'm 30. Maybe I've even noted that I registered for one right down the road scheduled for September 26. But other than that, I've tried to be quiet about my training, and more specifically, my failures and successes along the way.

But after this last weekend, I feel like sharing:

I've been staying pretty true to my training schedule and I do feel stronger. In fact, Saturday I participated in my first Adventure Race. It was a combination scavenger hunt, trail run, trail/road biking and paddle boarding. I wasn't really nervous but very excited to see how my marathoner-in-training body would handle it. Needless to say, I felt great. And it felt awesome to sweat that much. I mean, I was drenched. In some strange way, it was pretty empowering. This was the first time in years that I really felt like an athlete, not just a wannabe.

After an uncomfortable ride (bike seats really should be more comfortable) to visit my parents who had been watching my kids, I began thinking about the 12 miles that loomed in front of me Sunday morning. I dwelled on getting up once again, at 5 am...what happened to sleeping in?!...and just tried to convince myself that I wouldn't be sore and could handle it. (Someone once told me that running is all a matter of making your head believe that your body is as strong as it is. Physically you can be in perfect shape, but if you're not equally as strong mentally, failure is evident.)

I did wake up the next morning at 5. But it was dark and I was on a farm. So I waited 30 minutes before heading out, pepper spray in hand. I ran the 2.25 miles into the nearest town on a railroad dirt path along the tracks, which happens to be some of the best land to run on. Crossing into town, I felt pretty strong. There was a nice breeze and the sky was various shades of blue, trying to decide if it needed to shower a little that morning or just get hot and sticky.

I made my way, looping three times around the small community. Not one person was out. Just a few dogs noticed my presence. Legs felt pretty good. Head was clear. By the time I returned to the railroad path, I was beginning to think about the orange juice waiting for me back home. And while I was ready to be done, it still felt great to get so many miles in before my kids woke up.

What made it even better was knowing that I had worked out for nearly three hours the day before; ran two hours on Sunday morning and still had the strength to help my parents lay irrigation pipe for four hours. My body may be getting older but it's so refreshing to know that it's no weaker than it was several years and two kids earlier. Maybe this weekend is what I needed to remind myself that 26.2 miles may be a long way, but anybody, even a mom with bad knees, weak hips and little sleep can scratch if off her bucket list at the age of 30...