It’s been just about a month since my last race.
I have a June race on my calendar, with a pretty lofty time goal.
I’m training hard but lower back pain has forced me to take a few rest days in a row. I’m planning on a pretty epic weekend running schedule to make up some miles. I’m definitely on the mend, so I know that I can handle it.
It’s been absolutely gorgeous outside. Temperatures in NYC have been in the 50’s every morning this week. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, trees and flowers are in full bloom. This is what spring running is all about. So three days off may be good for my back, but it’s making me long for a speedy return to roads and paths of Central Park.
While I haven’t been running, all that I can think about is running my next race.
Somehow I am not exclusively focused on my June race. I am considering running another one sooner.
As much as I have often been overwhelmed by race day jitters, there is something about setting an alarm for a still-dark hour and lining up with hundreds (or thousands) of other runners.
It’s been a month since the last time I experienced that. I miss the positive energy and the good vibes at the start line, and the challenge that awaits once it’s crossed.
I want to get back out there, and experience the thrill of surpassing a goal.
I want to feel like a race-day rock star, choking on Gatorade and breathlessly crossing the finish.
I want to wear bright colors and wave to familiar faces in the crowd.
I want to high-five random strangers who are cheering me on and make new friends in the finishers’ area.
I want to thank all of the volunteers I pass on my jog home after the finish.
I want to tweet and blog about my experience, and wake El Profesor with the good news of a shiny new PR.
I want to feel strong and proud and fast and accomplished.
I want to run.