Week 6

August is heavy. It wants desperately to be light, 
like May or June, 
but it cannot escape what inevitably will succeed it.
It is haunted by the sickly knowledge that the sun will soon go away 
and the laughter will come less easily,
and the ache will return. 
There is little August can do. 
We, on the other hand, can resist—stupidly, pointlessly, joyfully— 
for just a while longer. 

---

I do not remember much of this August. I spent more time in Iowa this month than I have in years— almost two weeks. At the beginning of the month, I returned for my grandmother’s funeral. I have seen many butterflies since. Which could mean nothing. Or it could mean a lot.

I thought much about death and the passing of time and the fragility of life. Not to be cliche. But really, I did. I realized in hindsight that the most prominent themes of almost every one of the 15 books I have read this year have been: about women; about loss; about love; and about how life, in all its complexities, continues.

I returned to Iowa once again last Friday to spend a pre-scheduled week at home. I was reminded again of the very different-ness of my home state. I spent time with my family. I ran and relaxed and drove everywhere instead of walking and ogled at the lower prices and reveled in the sounds of cicadas and crickets, which hummed in the background of each hour outside. I thought about how much quieter it gets at night, and how dark my room gets, and how wonderful (and sometimes not so wonderful) it is to spend so much time with family, and how loud those damn bugs are. I loved it.

When I returned to New York, I sat in the uber and reflected wistfully, as one does. I wrote the above poem. I got back to my apartment and hugged the one of two cats who allows our hugs.

This week marked Week 6 of my marathon training, logged below.

On Monday, I essentially failed my run. I was in Galena, Illinois, on a weekend trip with family. Did you know: Galena is very hilly? My brother informed me that the landscape of Galena (along with much of Northeastern Iowa and very Northwestern Illinois) differs so vastly from the rest of the Great Plains region because the glaciers did not flatten the sh*t out of it. It wasn’t covered in ice during the Ice Age. Sans glaciers, the area was left lacking drift, the fertile sediment that covers much of the Midwest, hence the name of the area: the Driftless Region. John seemed to retain much more information from AP Environmental Science than I did. Anyways, the hills of Galena killed me. I felt like I was running up mountains. I walked more than I ran. In fact, in a moment of walking near an overlook in the mountains hills, I came across two bobcat cubs. I wouldn’t have seen those babies had I been speeding by. Thanks, Galena!

Tuesday’s workout was a speed workout back in Des Moines. I did a short warm up, then started off on 13x 2mins at 8-830 pace, with 60 seconds rest between reps. It was hot. I ran at the same place where, in high school, a boy bet me I couldn’t run a 5k in under 30 minutes. If I did, he owed me a week of free Dunkin coffee. (For those who don’t know, Dunkin is my One True Love). At the time of the bet, I despised running. Seriously. You can ask any of my coaches, teammates, friends, family members. I was running’s #1 hater. I took him up on the offer because a) I am competitive and b) I will do almost anything for free Dunkin. Long story short, not only did I fail miserably and not run under 30 minutes, but I also threw up. On the trail. In front of him. Anyways, this Tuesday’s workout was much better. No vomiting. I made John run the last 6 reps with me. He recorded the run as a “cool down” on Strava. I never fail to be humbled continuously.

On Wednesday, I ran 3 easy miles. I stand by my thought that 3 miles is the hardest distance to run. After the run, I met up with my club swim coach and teammates. Some of my most favorite people. It was awesome. There is nothing like sitting with people who have known you since you were 10 and couldn’t really swim and had no idea where the sport would take you. (And who know how much you used to hate running).

Thursday’s run was uneventful. I went to the infamous park loop with my mom. She walked the dog while I ran 5 miles and thought about how much better 5 miles feels than 3. I don’t make the rules.

A note: usually, I would do at least one lift during the week. That did not happen this week. Thanks, Iowa.

Today, Saturday, I ran 14.5 miles with Nike’ Project Moonshot. We ran over the Brooklyn Bridge, through Brooklyn by Prospect Park, and then looped back over the Manhattan Bridge, where I got a piece of plastic stuck around my ankles and took a tumble (like I said, continuously humbled). Luckily, I walked (ran) away with no injuries. Yippee!

During the run, I was struck by just how awesome it is to run, and especially to run with a group of women who are all so very hardworking and encouraging and driven. I thought also about how proud of myself I am. This was the longest I had ever run. There were 3 or 4 other girls in our group who were in the same boat. From here on out, each long run will be a PR for us. And that is something to celebrate.

I think back on this time last year, or two years ago, when I had never dreamed of running a marathon. I didn’t think I could do it. I had never run farther than 5 miles. It is amazing what the support of others can push you to do. It is amazing what belief in oneself can do.

There is so much in this world that is terrible and falling apart. There is so much that is hard to stomach, so much that should not be happening, so much to fear and to cry over and to scream about. When I started this training program six weeks ago, we were asked to choose a word to focus on— our theme of the training cycle. My word was “joy.” I wanted to enjoy it; to find things to celebrate, despite all else; to bring positivity, even if only for a few hours of the day running together; to be proud of myself. I’m happy to say I feel like I am doing it.

And, every 5k of the 14.5 miles we ran today would’ve won me a week of free Dunkin back in high school. Just for the record.

Until next time,

Clare

---

For those who have donated to my Marathon Fundraiser: Thank you.

And if you haven’t, or are considering, or feel swayed by this training log (!), I still have a few weeks to meet my goal: Clare's NYC Marathon Donation Link

With gratitude,

Clare