Kelly and I have survived the first week of marathon training. Go us. Making it through one week doesn't really mean anything though. There are four long months ahead. The mileage will slowly increase and soon enough, we'll find ourselves doing those lonely Sunday 20 milers.
I always feel weird talking about this running stuff to people who aren't runners or have no interest in ever running a marathon. How much do people want to know?
Things I would like to talk about: How pretty it was to watch the sunset behind Notre Dame the other night as I was running towards it. That I didn't mind the constant rain on Saturday's 8-mile run, because I had the trail almost to myself, something that never happens in Paris. Also I would like to mention how tired I always am. I fell asleep again on the train today, and someone had to wake me up to tell me we had arrived at the station. And Saturday I decided to shop all day after that long run, and a few hours in, I realized I was kind of limping because my legs were angry at me. That was not fun.
What else? There's lots I could talk about. When you run almost every day and dedicate four months of your life to this one silly really really long race (26.2 miles, in case you didn't know. Or 42 kilometers for you weird European people that don't think in miles), you think about it a lot. You pay more attention to what you eat, and think everyday about whether you are going to squeeze in a few miles before or after work, and you wish you didn't live on the 6th floor, because all those stairs hurt after you are already tired from all those miles.
But you also think about how you're really glad you're doing this. Working towards this goal gives you some sort of purpose in life or something. It feels good to whip your body into this kind of shape. You can eat whatever you want and never gain weight.
Well, I've already said too much. If you want to know about marathons and things, ask me. But that's all for now.