Breathe, Annie, Breathe
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August 24
20 miles
August 31
14 miles
September 7
22 miles
September 14
20 miles
September 21
The Bluegrass Half Marathon
September 28
12 miles
October 5
10 miles
October 12
Country Music Marathon in Nashville
TODAY’S DISTANCE: 6 MILES
Six Months Until the Country Music Marathon
I’m halfway through my six-mile run when Running Backwards Boy flashes by. But he’s going forward this time.
“Let’s go!” Running Backwards Boy yells to the man on his heels. “Pick it up, pick it up!” The man looks like he’s fixin’ to die, but RBB is in top form.
“Are you training for the Olympics today or something?” I holler, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s in some sort of super-runner zone and disappears from sight.
Today’s run is going a little better than last week’s. I’m not as tired, but my feet feel slimy inside my socks and I know another blister is forming. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s amazing to think that the fastest ladies in the world can finish a marathon in two hours and twenty minutes. I’d be glad to finish in five hours.
Matt jogs up next to me, his backpack bouncing against his back. “How you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Keep your arms moving. Pretend you’re a pair of scissors.”
I slice air with my hands.
“You got it now. Need anything? Water? Candy? Tylenol?”
“You’re a mobile drugstore.”
He grins, maintaining my pace. “Need any Vaseline?”
“Gah! Stop asking me that. I do not have chafing issues.”
Matt laughs, and then another guy from our team passes us. “Andrew! I told you not to use an iPod on the trails! It’s not safe! …As if he can hear me.” Matt jets off to catch Andrew, leaving me behind. Damn, Matt’s fast.
I saw him run for the first time at Wednesday’s training session. Until then, I wasn’t aware Usain Bolt was my running coach. I bet Matt’s even faster than Running Backwards Boy. Who now runs forward. I shake my head, trying to forget how he checked me out. I admit I’ve thought about it a few times in the past week.
It’s not that I’m desperate for sex. I’m desperate for Kyle to push my hair behind my ears. To scratch my back when I’ve got an itch. To watch reruns of The Big Bang Theory and laugh at all the same parts as me.
I focus on moving my arms back and forth like Matt showed me. Point my toes.
Breathe, Annie, breathe.
•••
The 0 mile marker comes into view and I sprint toward the finish. Sweat drips down my face. It takes all my energy to keep my arms moving. My calves burn. Matt and his assistants are screaming my name and clapping for me as I near the end. “Go, Annie! Push it!” Twenty seconds later, I pass the mile marker and slow to a walk.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my T-shirt and grin up at the sky. Everything hurts, but it’s a good hurt. I finished the entire six miles!
“Great job,” Matt says, patting my back. He hands me a cup of Gatorade. “Drink it all, and then you can have a banana.”
My hand shakes as I lift the cup to my lips. I breathe deeply to combat the dizziness. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out.
“How did today feel?” he asks.
“Okay. I only walked for a m-minute or s-so in the middle.”
Matt watches me finish my Gatorade. He has a group of fifteen runners at the trails this morning, but he makes me feel like I’m the only person here. He reminds me of my big brother. After I finish my drink and eat a banana, he leads me through a series of stretches and gives me instructions on how much water to drink this afternoon and tells me I need to run two miles tomorrow on my own.
His training program is tougher than two-dollar steak: during the week, I run or cross-train over short distances, but then we keep upping the ante on the weekend runs. For instance, if one Saturday we run four miles, the next weekend Matt makes us try for five. Over the next six months, I’ll work my way up to twenty-two miles before race day.
“So I’ll see you at the gym for cross-training this Wednesday?” Matt asks, and I nod. I love the structure this program brings to my life; I don’t like having to figure out how to fill the empty days and hours when I’m not at school or working. Not only do I have to work out every day of the week, but Matt also gave me a meal plan that shows when to drink water and what foods to eat when. I swear, all this planning and thinking about my body and what I’m putting into it is harder than rocket science.
20 miles
August 31
14 miles
September 7
22 miles
September 14
20 miles
September 21
The Bluegrass Half Marathon
September 28
12 miles
October 5
10 miles
October 12
Country Music Marathon in Nashville
TODAY’S DISTANCE: 6 MILES
Six Months Until the Country Music Marathon
I’m halfway through my six-mile run when Running Backwards Boy flashes by. But he’s going forward this time.
“Let’s go!” Running Backwards Boy yells to the man on his heels. “Pick it up, pick it up!” The man looks like he’s fixin’ to die, but RBB is in top form.
“Are you training for the Olympics today or something?” I holler, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s in some sort of super-runner zone and disappears from sight.
Today’s run is going a little better than last week’s. I’m not as tired, but my feet feel slimy inside my socks and I know another blister is forming. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s amazing to think that the fastest ladies in the world can finish a marathon in two hours and twenty minutes. I’d be glad to finish in five hours.
Matt jogs up next to me, his backpack bouncing against his back. “How you feeling?”
“Good.”
“Keep your arms moving. Pretend you’re a pair of scissors.”
I slice air with my hands.
“You got it now. Need anything? Water? Candy? Tylenol?”
“You’re a mobile drugstore.”
He grins, maintaining my pace. “Need any Vaseline?”
“Gah! Stop asking me that. I do not have chafing issues.”
Matt laughs, and then another guy from our team passes us. “Andrew! I told you not to use an iPod on the trails! It’s not safe! …As if he can hear me.” Matt jets off to catch Andrew, leaving me behind. Damn, Matt’s fast.
I saw him run for the first time at Wednesday’s training session. Until then, I wasn’t aware Usain Bolt was my running coach. I bet Matt’s even faster than Running Backwards Boy. Who now runs forward. I shake my head, trying to forget how he checked me out. I admit I’ve thought about it a few times in the past week.
It’s not that I’m desperate for sex. I’m desperate for Kyle to push my hair behind my ears. To scratch my back when I’ve got an itch. To watch reruns of The Big Bang Theory and laugh at all the same parts as me.
I focus on moving my arms back and forth like Matt showed me. Point my toes.
Breathe, Annie, breathe.
•••
The 0 mile marker comes into view and I sprint toward the finish. Sweat drips down my face. It takes all my energy to keep my arms moving. My calves burn. Matt and his assistants are screaming my name and clapping for me as I near the end. “Go, Annie! Push it!” Twenty seconds later, I pass the mile marker and slow to a walk.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead with my T-shirt and grin up at the sky. Everything hurts, but it’s a good hurt. I finished the entire six miles!
“Great job,” Matt says, patting my back. He hands me a cup of Gatorade. “Drink it all, and then you can have a banana.”
My hand shakes as I lift the cup to my lips. I breathe deeply to combat the dizziness. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out.
“How did today feel?” he asks.
“Okay. I only walked for a m-minute or s-so in the middle.”
Matt watches me finish my Gatorade. He has a group of fifteen runners at the trails this morning, but he makes me feel like I’m the only person here. He reminds me of my big brother. After I finish my drink and eat a banana, he leads me through a series of stretches and gives me instructions on how much water to drink this afternoon and tells me I need to run two miles tomorrow on my own.
His training program is tougher than two-dollar steak: during the week, I run or cross-train over short distances, but then we keep upping the ante on the weekend runs. For instance, if one Saturday we run four miles, the next weekend Matt makes us try for five. Over the next six months, I’ll work my way up to twenty-two miles before race day.
“So I’ll see you at the gym for cross-training this Wednesday?” Matt asks, and I nod. I love the structure this program brings to my life; I don’t like having to figure out how to fill the empty days and hours when I’m not at school or working. Not only do I have to work out every day of the week, but Matt also gave me a meal plan that shows when to drink water and what foods to eat when. I swear, all this planning and thinking about my body and what I’m putting into it is harder than rocket science.
