That's how they're describing the course for next April's inaugural Illinois Marathon. I just signed up for the half marathon this morning, which commits me to getting my act together this winter. I haven't done anything substantial since a very pathetic half marathon in Nashville in the spring of 2007. It's well past time to get off my butt, dust off the training program, and get to work.
Perhaps not coincidentally, this morning I finished Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Having had my share of disappointing efforts, I especially appreciated this passage in which he describes what it's like when the race doesn't turn out the way you'd hoped:
...in real life things don't go smoothly. At certain points in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news. It isn't always the case, but from experience I'd say the gloomy reports far outnumber the others. The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn't the messenger's fault. No good to blame him, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would be none other than our old friend Reality.
Applies to more than running, certainly.
Certainly. And that's why the people who choose to run with us--and even those just watch and cheer us on, encouraging us to do things we don't always think we can--are so important.
Metaphorically speaking, of course, at least in my case.
Posted by: V | 08 December 2008 at 10:56 AM