Boston Hopes

                    I said that I wouldn't have any goals for Boston other than enjoying the race. I wrote the word "goals" in dry erase marker on the board hanging in my room and drew an "x" through it. I did everything I could to eschew any thought that had even a hint of expectation.Then I couldn't do it any longer. With Boston a few sunrises more than a month away, I can't help but wonder (and wish) about what time I will run on April 15th.
                My goal going into my first marathon was 3:20. I was fully capable of doing so, with training going extremely well...until a hamstring injury 3 weeks away from the race. But I honestly don't think that it was the injury that made me fall 3 minutes too slow. I didn't realize until I was Facebook creeping myself last week (I had the splits posted to my page that morning) that I went out too hard. It should have been obvious in the aftermath of the race, but I was feeling bulletproof at the time and thought that I could, in fact, hold a 7:30 pace the entire race. How fast did I start, you ask? I was still running sub 7:30 miles around mile 10, and I saw the 3:15 pace group up until mile 12 or so.
                 So, then, what makes me imagine that I can do it this time, considering training isn't going so well and I'm not near as fit as I was a year and a half ago? I don't think I have to be as fit as I was to run 3:20. In fact,being slightly undertrained may help keep the pace on the slower end in the beginning before I settle into that 7:37 pace.

I'm scaring myself with this belief. I just really wanted to float along the streets of Boston and into running history bliss. Now I'm going to have my best exertion-induced pain face on as I pass the girls of Wellesley on my way to Heartbreak hill.

     The elevation changes in Boston are going to be hard for this Florida flat trained girl to handle. The hills are one of the many reasons that I decided not to make a goal for the race. On second thought, though, I've always believed that you can do whatever needs to be done on a given day. One of my favorite sayings is that my heart can carry me over the finish line faster than my legs ever will. If the desire is truly there, I should be able to handle the hills as if I've been training in Colorado since December.

     Although I can imagine seeing 3:20:?? on the clock, I also won't be too disappointed if I don't. Just as I'm wildly optimistic, I'm also steadily realistic. I'm going to give it my best shot and cross the finish line with a smile (or a grimace that looks like a smile) on my face.