Week fourteen, day four
You know how when you say something over and over, it starts to lose its meaning? I did that all last week. Eighteenmileseighteenmileseighteenmiles. Eighteeneighteeneighteen. 181818181818. It didn’t work.
Friday night, I told Tony that if I ever said the words “ultra” or “ironman” or anything similar, to tell me no. As it is, this undertaking is beginning to sound ridiculous. I don’t even like to drive 18 miles, let alone run that far!
Saturday it was my turn to give the mission moment. I told Angi’s story and the origin of the phrase, “bubble up.” For those of you that don’t know, Angi’s nickname was Bubbles. When she was sick, our friend Tammie said that people always told each other to be tough by saying, “man up” or “cowboy up” but that she thought Bubbles was the toughest person she knew, so she was going to change that phrase to “Bubble up.” It kind of became a slogan for all of us and I’ve taken it to heart during my training. My race day shirts always have “Bubble up” somewhere on them.
It was a good thing it was my turn to tell that story, too. I could hardly cut the run short or decide to walk for a while when I had just told my teammates that we could do anything if we focused on our honored heroes and all they had been through.
So, yeah. I ran 18 miles. It sounds just as strange now as it did before I did it. It was hard. It took me a really, really long time to finish. But…I did. Thanks to Angi and to all of your support, I dug deep and bubbled up and I did it.
It’s 8.2 miles short of the distance I’ll run in January, but I’m totally Scarlett O’Haraing that one and thinking about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another (running) day.