I ran Grandma's Half last week, after roughly a dozen training runs spread over two months. That's not a typo, or an understatement. My training was minimal. Going into the race, I thought I'd run around a 9:30 pace, so I was shocked when miles ticked by in the mid 8's. I was even more shocked when it stayed that way, and that I finished feeling (relatively) good in 1:51:24, an 8:31 average pace. If someone would have offered me $100k to run an 8:30 pace for 13.1 miles, I literally don't think I would've been able to do it. And yet I did.
I keep thinking about this little corner of the internet, one that I've occupied for nearly six years, and how much life has changed in that period. Moves. Jobs. Marriage. Baby. Carl. But one thing hasn't changed: my love for running.
Is it odd to say that I come here often and read my own posts, and that reading them feels like the greatest motivator?
Is it odd to say that I feel like I have a better shot at being a better runner now as a 31 year old mom than I did when I was single and in my 20's?
There is an urgency to my running now that I didn't have before. Like I know my biological clock is ticking, but with a baby under my belt, it's a different clock. It's the one that keeps rhythm with my feet on the road, the familiar tick tick tick tick that I hear with every footfall. And the thought that chases me is if not now then when?
I will never be the best runner in the world, but I also very strongly feel that I have yet to hit my limit of being the best runner I can be. So I'm back here at Feet Move Forward, reviving this little running blog and my running life.