I've been running marathons, and then ultra marathons, for the past seven years. I've become accustomed to putting several 50Ks, a road marathon and maybe even a 50-mile run on the calendar each January. But this year, I'm taking the opposite track, and scaling back.
I began to loath speed workouts, long runs on weekends, and even recovery runs. Instead of being an outlet, it became a punishment I had to endure a few times a week. Once I began college, I promptly stopped running.
I had imagined that I'd be running this race well into my seventies, if not beyond. But recently, I've been having doubts. It's almost as if I can see the end of my life as a runner looming -- to my great regret and sorrow.
Duffy's story offers a perfect example of a profound, but often overlooked truth about human toughness: Even the most physically punishing feats of endurance are less about the body than about the mind.
All soon-to-be, first-time NYC Marathoners, like me, know that the training is complete (through heat, rain, an earthquake, and a hurricane), so now it's time to get ourselves excited for the race and as prepared as possible.
At one point in my life, I was locked out of my own restaurant, I had negative 600 dollars in my bank account, I was lost, and candidly, I was fat. But in retrospect, it was the best thing that could have happened to me.
In the days leading up to the ING New York City Marathon on Sunday, countless runners will remember the woman who jumpstarted the women's running revolution three decades ago, and who supported and encouraged runners of all abilities until her death.
Over time, however, I cannot imagine not running or praying. More than something that I feel that I "should" do, I find myself praying in gratitude that I get to do this, that I am in touch with my body while running.