In Germany, the locals do this thing where they get in a big group in one small town and then walk through fields and other little towns (stopping for beer and pretzels along the way) until they get to a predetermined end location. This is called a Volksmarch. It can be a languorous pace, or it can be a workout. It depends on location and how zealous the other people in the crowd are. Sunday, I'll be running the Fueled By Fine Wine half marathon down in Oregon, and I'm approaching it like a volksmarch, but since I'll be running most of it, I'll call it a volks-run.
I'm looking at this race differently than those in the past. This is the first long(er) distance race I've run since that whole ectopic debacle, and I just want to embrace the fact that my body has worked for me (most of the time) and has done a pretty good job. I'm truly blessed that this frame of mine will carry me through life's ups and downs, not to mention long runs.
The game plan looks like this:
- Enjoy the scenery- It's in wine country! Hello?! Pretty, pretty, pretty.
- Don't worry about pace- Much of the run is off road and there is a 800 foot climb. That might not sound like a ton of feet, but trust me, it's grueling.
- Take a picture or two?- In past races- like the Athens Marathon in Greece, I've scoffed at people stopping to take pictures. How gauche! How amateur! But guess what? I'm never going to be an elite runner, and I sure as hell wish I had some pictures from that Athens marathon to remember it a little better, since my brain was addled from the 19 mile uphill. But I digress. Where was I? Oh, right- taking pictures. I'll have my iPhone for music, so I think I'll stop to capture the moment on film... or pixels. Whatever.
I've never felt this relaxed before a half marathon... and really, it's only a half. It will be okay. But depending on how Sunday goes, this might be my new running M.O. Plus, wine tasting and artisinal goat cheese on baguettes at the finish line doesn't sound half bad.