There is something to be said about reaching a goal...I just haven't been able to think of what exactly that is. My first race of 2013 was over a month ago now and I have started the race report umpteen times and gotten no farther than, well, I haven't gotten very far at all.
I think I expected too much emotionally from the race. I wanted it to be everything that my Thanksgiving 5k was and more (after all, a half should be proportionately more awesome). It wasn't. It was just 13.1 hilly miles. It felt ordinary. Normal. And at the end I was indifferent about my time (2:32:43 for those that are wondering). It was a time that I knew I could run. It made me believe that I could run sub 2:30 with a few less hills on the course or a few more miles on my running shoes. My psoas punked out around mile 4, a little earlier than I had thought it would, but it turned out okay.
Okay. Normal. Even a bit mundane.
This malcontent bugged me for almost a month. My runs since have been work. I've been a bit uninspired. My next race is a tough one. A trail half next weekend. And I've been nervous about finding some motivation to get myself to the start line and the finish line.
Monday, I found my motivation at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.
I may not love all of my runs, but I love that I am able to run and that makes all the difference today.