From the Beginning, Again!

This week was a beginner's lesson.

The problem with undertaking a second marathon is that you take for granted the past effort you put in to achieve the initial result.  I've forgotten how much effort it takes.  I vaguely remember it being difficult in the beginning, but never like this.  I literally go out for my runs and think, What is wrong with me?! This week was a gradual vocalization of the fact I'm a beginner again.  And taking things from the beginning when you've already accomplished the goal once before feels like learning how to read and write all over again.  


It makes me think that kids actually have it really hard.  (Bear with me.)  We think that it's such a lovely time, being a child and living without adult responsibilities, but I ask you to recall how hard it was for you to learn something as a kid.  You would sit in school for hours, absorbing and interacting and exercising your brain with only about an hour or so of break time to relax.  Kindergarten was difficult because you were learning to share and listen (well, most of us, anyways.)  And then came elementary school, then junior high - hormonal instability coupled with algebra was like a gauntlet of shame - then, remember what it was like in high school?  When you had three to four hours of homework after the eight hours of instruction from your less-than-favorite chemistry teacher?  And then, the preparation for the SATs?  Finally getting into college was like some sort of door prize for participating in the decades-long boot camp for your brain.  When you finally got to college, you had been developed into a well-oiled, neutron-firing machine. 


If running my first marathon was like getting into college, running my second marathon has to be some sort of post-bac purgatory.

Training again has thrown me for a loop in then sense that I am sure that, at some point, I was pretty good at running.  But for some reason, my speed and endurance are not as easily accessible as they once seemed.  And it's confusing to go out running (something I've done for, literally, years) and feel like I've lost the well-oiled, neutron-firing machine that used to be my tempo and distance.  I really used to know how to do this, but now it's like I'm having to learn it all over again - and the progress cannot be catalyzed.

The reality is that I expected it would all come back to me more quickly.   Getting back on the track this week, I was gasping for breath after 3 laps of intervals, having to walk after 20 minutes of tempo, and wondering, how, dear God, am I ever going to be ready for another full marathon by September?  Part of me doubts that I was ever successful at this.  In fact, I think,  Maybe I've been on the short bus this whole time and nobody's told me.


Each year in school, you were having to start all over again, learning something new and building on what you have stored away in your brain from years past after barely a summer's respite.  But you'd get back to class every fall and it would take about a week before you were zipping along at your regular pace.  Kids have it hard, but they sure bounce back quick.  Presto, voila, simple and easy.  But here I am, almost three weeks in, and instead of zipping through the textbooks again and speedily jotting down my thesis statement ideas, I find I'm having to go back to the very basics of just simply (re)learning how to listen and share.