Waiting for the son

I'm back blogging. My last entry was way back in February after the Martha's Vineyard 20 Miler meaning that I never wrote about the Boston marathon at all, which was supposed to be the culmination of the blog. Sorry about that... Well, I ran the marathon in 3 hours 18 minutes. I felt like I never found any rhythm after the crowds at the start thinned out and despite all my training on the course I didn't have much left when I hit the Newton Hills. That's it in a nutshell. But there's always next year, right? Well, I got married this summer and my wife Sara and I are expecting a baby in April on or around Marathon Monday. So even though I am planning to train for next year's marathon, I may be otherwise engaged that day (don't ever suggest to your wife that she might not need you at the delivery; if she's got to be there so do you). Anyway, can you see the narrative tension I am trying to set up here on the blog? Will I be able to run (despite having a number and having trained) or will I be foiled after all my training and preparation by Junior deciding that Monday, April 19 is the very best day of the year to be born. It is going to be a taut storyline: the two clocks are counting down. We know when one will hit zero; will the other one chime at the same time?

My mileage right now is not high. Last week 18.5 miles and this week will end up less than that. I did a half marathon in early October on low training mileage as I was coming back from a calf tear. I did a 9 mile run on a beautiful day at the end of November in New Hampshire. That was my best run in a while. I ran the 5.6 mile first leg of the Mill Cities Relay last Sunday. That wasn't so good. I don't have a training schedule that I am following at the moment, so that has to be a priority. I have been doing some trail running in the Middlesex Fells this last month or so and I hope to keep doing that while ground conditions allow. My overall aim is to get a bit faster and to avoid injury—I have a shin splint niggle at the moment so I am trying to keep that at bay.

In closing, a few lines from Andrew Marvel's poem, "To His Coy Mistress," that opens with "Had we but world enough, and time." The last two lines read, "Thus, though we cannot make our sun/ Stand still, yet we will make him run." Maybe I can make the sun run a little, while waiting for the son.