Last Friday the weather took a deep drawn in breath. As I drove home from the rare Friday night meeting the weather was calm and placid. Because someone had to attend a secret dinner cooked by ninjas, and because my wonderful girlfriend was preparing to rock her marathon (quick: go tell her what a great job she did), I quickly rearranged my schedule to head out of town by noon on Saturday. This meant I had to get my 22M run in early Saturday morning—no matter what.
While thinking about my upcoming long run and driving down the highway, Winter exhaled. Snow. Hard, heavy, wet snow, carried on angry winds. And caught and ripped away in this late February storm went any hope I had of a quality long run outside. I had no choice, 22M indoors.
Yes, I was going to attempt to do 22M on a treadmill.
It was a fail. I had to stop after 17M. I honestly think I was hallucinating. The fact that there is even a record for most miles run on a treadmill in a 24 hour period is insane.
But a bad long run is not unexpected during marathon training. However, there is some fortunate news. The temps finally moved above freezing. Today, the sun is shining and snow is melting off of sidewalks. On the first day of March, the chokehold Winter has had on this part of the County loosened. The white knuckled grip slackened a bit, enough to provide the most important training tool—hope. A deep gasp of hope. Exactly what I needed.
Today, for the first time, I feel hope about the remainder of my training for Boston. And I can tell you that this break and the arrival of beautiful are not simply coincidence.