After recently returning from the Big Easy, I'm fighting a case of the ole Monday blues today. Yesterday's weather was just about as good as it gets in DC, and I'm now facing the harsh reality that my running shoes haven't exactly gotten a workout in the past week. Whoops.
Now, that's not to say I didn't at least partially participate in Liv's route recommendation for New Orleans. I most certainly strapped on my sneaks and covered part of the course - but I don't really think it counts when I only made it as far as Cafe du Monde to stuff my face with beignets and a cafe au lait.
My trip to NOLA - entertaining as it was - confirmed that I could never, EVER live there, and here's why...
- The humidity. I rocked a constant 'fro the entire time I was there. I tried to make it look intentional - like I was going for the Urban Outfitters hippie chic tousled hair look - but I swear I overheard a few "bless her heart"s in response to my Kelly Taylor tendrils.
- I'm simply not rowdy enough. I'm apparently 27 going on 60 because I couldn't keep up with the New Orleans crew and found myself getting more excited about my bed than hopping to the next bar. And I'm simply baffled by the concept of "roadies" - that is, beers-to-go. Not 30 minutes after arriving in New Orleans, I stumbled upon an open air festival where pretty much everyone was strolling about with a daiquiri in hand. I love the laid-back vibe of New Orleans, and it's mantra is practically foreign compared to DC's antics.
- Lastly, and most importantly, the chances of me ever getting in marathon shape in New Orleans are about as likely as an alcohol-free Mardi Gras. With that much tastiness at every corner, I'd be lucky to make it to the starting line under 400 lbs. I give major props to the runners I saw barreling past the city's most hallowed restaurants without so much as a single drop of drool seeping out of their mouths. It's pretty much impossible to find a bad meal in Nola - and I'm lugging around some extra padding right now to prove it.
|I mean, really NOLA??|
One night, I found myself eating dinner next to a Canadian trainer who once held the record for running the 800 faster than any other female in the world... most certainly impressive... though he was a man. He was a bit skeptical of my marathon training and expressed his concern that we aren't training with a coach and are, therefore, putting ourselves at great risk of injury. He made many valid points that I spent some time pondering, and he then asked me what it would take for me to feel successful on marathon day. I thought for a minute about my goal time, and ultimately answered, "Crossing the finish line."
He scoffed in response to my answer - which I assumed was because that's not exactly the most admirable goal for someone who is an accomplished runner - but then he surprised me with his reply and said, "I think true success is the starting line."
I thought about it for a minute and realized that, if I can stay focused on running and putting my all into training for the big day, there's really nothing to fear come race day. It's a relief to know that I'm doing the best that I can to enjoy the entire process and not just the finish line.
So peace out, Monday blues! Time to hit the trail.