I calmed down a bit and went to bed. My alarm went off at 5:30 and Cory had to shake me awake. I briefly thought about turning it off and going back to sleep, but got up anyway. I knew I wasn't going to make it the 17 I had planned today, but I was trying a new route that was just over 13 miles and I figured that was doable at a nice, easy pace.
The route itself was actually pretty cool. I ran through a small patch of farm country and then out to the airport and back to my house. The country part was nice and quiet and I LOVED watching the planes land and take off. I have a weird attraction to aircraft. Especially F-16 fighter jets. Oh baby! I actually seriously considered joining the Air Force in high school but was too scared of the basic training. Oh, high school Megan, if only you could see yourself now.
Anyway... I'm getting distracted...
I blasted my music this morning and kept repeating my most angry songs. I had a lot of emotions and aggression to get out. I was mad at myself for not running 17, and I was mad that I knew I couldn't do 17. I was mad I'm going through this journey alone. I was mad about a lot of things.
But then I had a thought that instantly changed my perspective. Not too long ago, running 13 miles KILLED ME OFF. It was scary and always left me feeling exhausted and just done. I've reached the point in my running fitness now, where 13 miles has become my "easier" run. I'm not saying running 13 miles is easy by any means, but I kept saying this morning, "It's ok, I'm only going 13 miles today. That's doable." ONLY going 13?! Who am I? I started thinking back to all my past races. My first half marathon I really thought I was going to die. I hyperventilated at the end and I couldn't walk for 3 days after. Look where I am now! 2 kids later, and I'm running 13 miles as an easier run. That is something to celebrate.
So yes, this marathon may kill me off. I may never do it again. But look how far I've come. Look at the progress I've made in the process of killing myself off. Plus, it's a freaking MARATHON! It's not supposed to be easy. If it were easy, everyone would do it. And any goal that doesn't challenge you isn't worth setting, right?
So I got my personal pep talk this morning in my head. I can do this. "I've still got a lot of fight left in me."
About 5-6 years ago my mom bought a giant bag of Chex Mix at Costco. If you know our family, to us, Chex Mix is the shiz. This bag was extra delicious because it had roasted peanuts in the mix. We went to Costco soon after to stock up and found out they had stopped carrying it. It was a dark day.
Today, after all these years, the Prodigal Snack has returned:
I literally almost screamed in pure jubilation, but the little voice of sanity at the back of my mind silenced it and remembered that I was there with my husband and kids, and if I wanted to leave with them, I needed to act like a stable adult. I let out a half squeak/sob and grabbed a few bags, threw them in the cart, and walked away before Cory could protest. It's been a day of celebration ever since. I feel like I could fly.
We also completed our night with a neighborhood fireworks display (with Chex Mix to snack on). Our neighbor invited us to watch and we had no idea just how many people were coming. It was quite the show. Over 430 fireworks, most of them aerial. It was great! And the stand that displayed them all burst into flame halfway through. We were sitting pretty close and I thought for sure we were going up in flames as well, but we were spared. Even Kennedy got really nervous and she's a freaking pyro. We did have ash and embers raining down on us the whole time. Cory and I kept saying "Next time we now know to not sit so close." And then we realized... There won't be a next time. It made us kind of sad.
By the way, having a fireworks show right out your front door is super ideal. We put our little firecracker, Brynlie, to sleep and the three of us stepped outside and enjoyed the festivities without worrying about B eating matches or flirting with boys.