A Different Person

I was struggling to put on my running shoes. To put them on and, then, (groan) to tie them.

Gripping that black refridgerator handle and leaning like a circus elephant balancing on the top of a 4-square ball, my eyes fell on one of the few running certificates I've saved.

I don't save many. I like the medals: who wouldn't like shiny, jingly, sparkly things? But those pieces of paper usually get recycled.

The rules: my last marathon and my last half marathon get to stay. Boston is up there to remind me why I really shouldn't want to do Boston again - every time I look at it, that imagined 35-mph crosswind makes me shiver.

Oh, and I re-posted the Philadelphia postcard I got from my first marathon. Average pace: 10:16.7

I didn't even post Birmingham. That was the last half that I did. Last year. Last year, this weekend.

But I did keep the NYC half marathon certificate. Though the Speedy Blonde totally smoked me that day, I broke 1:30 (by a mere 15 seconds) for the first time ever.

That was almost 2 years ago.

Looking at that piece of paper, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to run an average 6:51 mile.

It wasn't me who did that. It was a whole different person.

I shook my head, finished off my shoes and went to meet History for a jog up to Columbia Heights.

While running through the Zoo and the Rock Creek Park Trail, a fellow runner turned to us and said, "Wow. We're really booking it. We were running a 9:15 for the past 2 miles and now we are still doing a 9:50!"

A different city. A different mind-frame. Maybe different goals? A whole different person.

About 7 miles. It's better not to know the pace I was keeping!