10/04/10 - 10/10/10 - Week Total: 19.2
A porta potty conversation can end in friendship. Weird, I know, but it can happen. From there, a picture, an email, a facebook friend request, a dinner in town, an invite to a race out of town, meeting the families, the hubbies, and the kids.
On race weekend, a warm hospitality, a welcome letter on my bed with drawings of the guests done by the kids. Follows the most wonderful carboload dinner: spinach pasta mixed with a delicious sort of caprese: tomato, lots of basil, olive oil, pepper and Parmesan cheese.
A race. A hilly race. A horrendously hilly race. But... in what I call home: Eastern Washington. Running by orchards with hundreds of apples trees, and the fruits at my reach. Reminiscence of a long-time-ago run in Wenatchee with my beautiful daughter Alejandra where we stole apples to calm our thirst.
Between the hills and the 20-miler I had run the previous weekend, my heart rate and system were about to shut down. At mile 7 I was done. If I would have not been in a race, I certainly would've quit. That's one of the reasons why I race, to avoid that the quitting thoughts triumph over me. I was at the point I couldn't run tall any longer. I looked down. And there they are, hundreds of smashed-by-cars worms, that got out of their soil for whatever reason. I may puke. Better run tall again.
And I kept going to find the last hill, at mile 9. A 0.5 mile hill with headwinds. The only thing missing is rain. And it rained. Looked down, no more worms.
It was a marvelous weekend, where I reaffirmed that running is not about running. It's about the people you meet during the journey. People that share with you a critical part of your life. People who you can share with Love, Food, Apples... And Some Worms.
I am glad I am building a comparison chart for all my races, because permits me understand better how my system works. The hills explain the splits and my back-n-forth HR says it all.