Some Backstory

Today's run:

Distance: 9.01 miles

Time: 1:39:00

Pace: 10:59

My run today felt good but not great. I tried using a sports drink instead of water and a gel. I missed the gel and didn’t like the sports drink. Think I’ll stick to what I like. I listened to my favorite podcast, “Never Not Funny.” It’s the perfect length for my long runs right now. A friend recently asked me what I think about when I’m running and I’ve never thought about it. I don’t know. I can’t remember. I know that I daydream a lot. I know that I act out scenes and dialogue in my head. But I think it’s the stretches of not thinking that keep me running. Right now on my runs I’m thinking about trying to not think about the marathon.

I’ve run a few races in my life. I believe they can literally be counted on one hand. Maybe one and a half. I was on the track team in the eighth grade. My only real memories of that are running the mile and the 800 meters. I remember running after school one day, by myself, and my track coach joined me for the last lap. It was awkward. Partly because he was my coach and he was trying sort of “hang out.” Mostly because I couldn’t carry on a conversation while running and he was real chatty. I remember him saying that I’d run that last lap in 2 minutes, meaning my mile was at about 8 minutes.

I remember only one track meet from that year. I was running the 800 and I came in next to last. The only reason I didn’t come in last was because I looked back and a girl was gaining on me. So I guess that’s when I found “my kick.” I cut about thirty seconds off my time because of her. Nothing motivates quite like shame. I also ran the mile in that meet and that one I remember well. My best friend Daniel was also running and he was several yards ahead of me. We must have finished a lap or two when I yelled at him to see if he wanted to stop. He said that he did. So when we rounded one of the turns instead of continuing through, we kept going straight through the fence and up to the concession stand. Then again, shame only gets you so far.

I didn’t run another race until this summer when I ran my first 5k in Waco. Toward the end of the race I found myself surrounded by children, one ahead and one behind. This made me run harder and I came in under thirty minutes, which was my goal. I should have thanked those kids. I ran another 5k and a 10k this summer as well. That’s when the marathon crept into my brain like a taunt.

After my father died three years ago I went on a year-long food binge that was truly glorious in its own sad way. I ate like a machine. I ate a lot of pizza, chips, and Mexican food. Taco Bueno became my crack. Then something happened. Well, that’s not true. Nothing “happened.” I didn’t have a heart attack or anything drastic. I just had enough. Something changed. I guess that’s why I’m writing this. But I went on a diet (Nutrisytem) and started exercising and started to look and feel better.

I miss my father. I miss him the most when I’m with my oldest son and he does anything remotely amazing. Which is pretty much everything that he does. I had the fortune of being with my dad during his last days, which not everyone gets. It was surreal. You really haven’t lived until you’ve been in the room talking with a man as he's being measured for a coffin. We all planned the funeral together. I made a slide show and showed it to him. I’d put the years of his birth and death at the beginning of it and I sat next to him and showed it on my laptop.

I think that this marathon has something to do with him. But I can’t exactly put my finger on it.