Six Weeks to Beantown and Finally Baaaaack!

Patriot’s Day is only six weeks away, which means my long awaited dance with the World Series of marathons will soon be a dream come true.  The natural excitement and nervous energy that come along with it will only escalate.

But I’m down with that.

Yesterday I nailed a 16 mile long run with 11 miles at 7:15 pace, with no aches or pains — yet another promising sign that my ITB issues are finally far off in the background.  I wasn’t going to celebrate my lack of ITBS symptoms until I was able to sustain a good month of dedicated speed and hill training alongside the general aerobic long runs that are the staple of any solid marathon training plan.

Five weeks and counting, no residual aches, pains or soreness.  I’m feeling damn good.

My buildup for this race, albeit unorthodox due to the limited training and mileage prescribed by coming off of a serious injury, has been about as much as I could ask for.  I’m not overdoing it.  I’m resting when my body directs me.  But most of all, I’ve adjusted my mind to allow for a fun, possibly once-in-a-lifetime race experience.  Rather than being hellbent on time goals, I’m focusing on toeing the line healthy,  ready to deliver on whatever my body seems capable of on April 15, 2013.

This is in large contrast to my normal marathon training as I’m a bit of a perfectionist.  I instinctively marry myself to routine, to nailing splits, to chasing down the guy ahead of me.  And while I know quite well that outside of myself, not one single person on the planet really cares what time I get when crossing the finish line, I still feel like if I don’t throw down a personal best in every race then I’m not doing it right.

WRONG.

I’ve set some modest goals for Boston 2013.  I haven’t regained my Chicago 2012 fast legs yet, but I’d like to finish somewhere between a 3:15 and 3:30, mindful of the fact that finishing and living in the moments presented by the most storied marathon in the world are, above all else, the most important things.  If, on race day, my abilities push me beyond the 3:30 mark, then so be it.  I vow to cross the line with a smile and a triumphant fist.

The cliche “it’s not the destination that matters but the journey” comes to mind.  In my case, the journey has been profound in what it has revealed about me, about how I handle adversity both instinctively and through contemplation.

For someone like me, opportunities like running the Boston Marathon are certainly the exception, not the norm.  I will treat the experience as exceptional, from Hopkinton to Boylston Street, and everywhere in between.