Expectations

Well, I've gone and done it. I've started gearing up for a fall marathon - more on this later; that's not the point of this post - and am a few weeks into a training plan that I've used before and love. The big, tough chunks of the plan are still weeks and weeks away, yet I was telling Josh recently that even the plan's early weeks have been challenging because of the heat.

I mean, check out this week's forecast:

That is wild!

To be clear, the first priority is obviously being safe, so with that in mind, I try to get around those temperatures by running as early in the morning as I can, before the sun gets high in the sky. Even that strategy helps only marginally sometimes (while simultaneously snatching away precious zzzs!). The beauty of a long training plan is that it teaches you to ride out tough stretches in order to reap the benefits of fast running later in the season. Essentially, you put in the work - the early mornings, the sweat, the slog mileage - and don't give up, and the payoff comes farther down the road. You just do what you can to get through those challenging sections. (More on this later in the week!)

If you've been here before, you know I love extrapolating life lessons from sports. Read on!

Anyway, my alarm rang yesterday morning at 7:00, and as soon as I checked the weather, I knew that I had made a mistake in not heading out earlier: already 73 degrees, with a 64 degree dewpoint and full sun. (For me, a trifecta of trouble.) I got ready for the run with Debby Downer enthusiasm, sprayed about half a can of sunscreen on myself and headed out. It was slow, and it was hot, but two miles ticked past, and then four and five, and soon enough I was on the home stretch and finished 14.

But here's the thing: My whomp-whomp expectations for the run didn't even prove true. I won't go so far as to say the run was joyful, but it certainly wasn't terrible, and it wasn't worth the negativity I had projected earlier. I practiced hydrating, slowed my pace accordingly and motored through.

As I was thinking about this with a few miles to go, I came across this spray-painted message on the river road:

When I was in high school, I wrote "BE HAPPY" on my cross-country skis to combat the bad habit of letting the physical challenge of racing sink my spirits and allowing myself to usher in negative thoughts midrace.  "BE HAPPY" (and later, "SKI HAPPY") was my reminder to myself to try my hardest but also allow myself to just enjoy being out there in the fresh air, focusing instead on the thrill of the effort. More recently, this has shifted slightly to the idea of having confidence in my training and trusting myself. Sometimes I finish a run in tough conditions and come back covered in sleet or snow or rain (or just sweat) and tell Josh that I can't believe I did it, and he always says, "I can." Like I wrote awhile back: Running reminds us we're stronger than we think.

When I'm doing my long runs, it's hard for me not to come away with some kind of lesson from the miles. This weekend's run was a reminder to be open to each experience and not let preconceived expectations dictate the story. Like my grandma always said, you only have as much fun as you want.