A Runner’s Best Friend

I’ve been training for the Ottawa Marathon for six months. I’ve been more focused on pace and number of runs than ever before. I barely even skipped any runs. Through the winter, I ran hill repeats, I met with a personal trainer every week, I even ran the Hypothermic Half as a part of my training plan. Honestly? I’ve rocked it.

I’m down about seven pounds since the fall, my legs are lean and strong, even my arms are starting to get some definition. I feel confident in my clothes, I feel strong mentally.

There’s a ton of thank you cards I’m going to be writing next week, to all the people who donated to Team Diabetes for me. I’m waiting until after the race so that I can happily tell them that I reached my fundraising and my race goal. I am so ready for this race, it’s all I’ve been thinking about.

I owe it to my personal trainer who kicked my ass in a wonderfully positive way. I owe it to my husband, who tolerated my months of mumbling under my breath and counting on my fingers trying to figure out an optimal pace, I owe it to my parents who are flying to Ottawa to be there at the finish line to cheer for me. I owe it to myself because I’m the one who slogged those miles and miles on the road. I’m refusing to think about not reaching my goal (4:15) because I’ve done so much and focused so completely and I feel so positive and excited about this whole experience to not reach it. (But I will say this – no matter what happens on race day, I have given it my all this winter. I’m not saying I won’t be disappointed if I come in later than 4:15, but I know in my heart that I’ve really kicked my own ass the past six months.)

I have a secret though, one that I haven’t talked about much. She’s the one who often drags me out the door, she keeps my legs moving when I’m tired. She never even complains about the weather – in fact, the messier, the better as far as she’s concerned. And after my long runs, she always greets me at the door with a smile and sits by the bathroom door waiting for me to get out of the tub, then lays beside me on the bed while I rest afterwards.

That’s Milo. Isn’t she a sweetie? Nine years old and still rocking long runs (she ran 14k last weekend with my husband).

Milo’s my Ace in the Hole. There’s no weather bad enough for her to not want to run. We crash through trails together, she zooms through the puddles that I try to avoid. And then, when we’re done running and I brush her, she loves all over me with her kisses.

She’s the best running partner ever – I only wish she’d be with me on that last 10k next weekend.