I am so thrilled at the prospect of NOT training for a marathon that running seems fun again. I don't really want to think about St. George. Maybe I just have to accept that my body can't do what it used to do (speed nor distance). Maybe my wrecked hamstrings and sad variety of exhausting ailments have sucked the joy out of trying hard. I don't know. But I do know that running--at any pace-- for no better reason than to be near the sound and sight of the rushing river, and to be one of the few witnesses of the cool morning daybreak is enough for me. I tried something new today that felt kind of good--I walked backwards up the big hills instead of running them. |