Aside from being crazed on the professional front, the last few weeks were filled with a lot of milestones, all of them good. Let’s start with the running, given that this is a running blog and all.
Not long ago, I mentioned that I’d be running my very first race since moving to Philadelphia: the 10 mile Broad Street Run. I’ve heard there are a number of factors that make it a Philly “must,” from the roaring crowds to the largely downhill course.
Yet, while I’m excited to participate (albeit, less excited about waking up for an 8am start), committing to 10 miles also means committing to long-ish training runs. Could I cross the finish line without it? I mean… probably, yes. I logged 31 miles just a couple of weeks ago, so if I cut back on the week of the race, I can’t imagine I’d DNF. With that said though, I’ve never been one to half-ass anything. I may not be going for gold here, but what’s the point of signing up if I’m not going to give it my all?
So, on Saturday, I dedicated the first part of my morning to a lovely, sunny, and slightly too windy 8 miles.
The morning itself was out of a movie. There were rowers out on the water; runners of all levels; and it seemed all of Philly had come out to spruce up the Schuylkill River trail.
I had gone into the run accepting that the last 3 miles would be a push, as it had been a couple of months since I’d run more than 5. To my surprise, they were as easy as the first. In fact, dare I say, I could have gone a handful more.
Fortunately, I didn’t. My body, at that moment, felt fine to continue on, but if I’ve learned anything in my seven years of running it’s that the post-run recovery is often half the battle. After doing a bunch of errands and crossing things off the ol’ to-do, I got in bed at 4:00 and passed out until dinner. I woke up dehydrated from there, and then my dinner–relatively plain fish tacos–didn’t sit very well. Though of course, that could have been the two ginger margaritas that washed it all down.
On Sunday morning, I thought I’d skip my run and instead go to a new barre class near my apartment that I recently discovered and happen to love. I was powerless to Mother Nature though. Thinking with my heart, not my brain, I set out for a run.
With Noah by my side, we kept it short; he’s still recovering from a marathon-induced knee injury and, having just finished PT, is limiting himself to 3 miles. In typical Stacy fashion, we picked a destination and ended our morning in the Italian market, picking up fresh mozzarella and homemade squid ink linguini to cook back at home.
Fortunately, beach season is still a few months away.
Anyway, spring has definitely arrived, and with it, has brought Noah’s and my first wedding anniversary. To be honest, we’ve never been one to celebrate lovey occasions. In fact, if you promised me a million dollars if I could pinpoint our very first date, I still couldn’t figure it out.
Something about year one though, I found to be kind of special. In the week leading up to it, I became especially nostalgic — the week, and being surrounded by our closest family and friends in Brooklyn, was incredibly special. For a moment, I wanted to go back.
Of course, we’ve moved forward–and quite a ways–since we said our vows. Now that spring’s here, I’m looking forward to happy races, spring blossoms, and a positive outlook for the future.
What are you looking forward to this spring? Do you have any races you’re currently training for?