Even though I’m still gimpy and recovering from a litany of problems stemming from bursitis in my left hip, I registered for my sixth Chicago Marathon this week.
And, you know, I can’t NOT run the damn thing. It’s just too awesome and too important to me.
Registering this time around felt different. It wasn’t the grand, momentous action it had been in years past. It felt familiar and far less nauseating, but there was still that split second of hesitation before clicking the “submit” button to pay my $185 and commit myself to another summer of early Friday nights and even earlier Saturday mornings.
Because I’m coming off a major injury, I might not be able to train as hard as I did last year — or as hard as I want to — so that thus-far elusive BQ likely will have to wait another year. And that’s OK.
Either way, the Chicago Marathon will still be waiting for me in the fall, a trusty old friend with whom I spend the second Sunday of every October. — Mags