Ian MacMillan Remembered

When I stepped in the house from this evenings run the first words from Ally’s lips weren’t, “How was your run”, but rather, “You look tired babe”.

Frank Shorter said, “You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can't know what's coming”, the CIM seems only days ago and Sunday’s 10-k even closer.

I’m not sure I can accurately describe the lethargy I felt during the first 30’ of my run. My legs felt heavy and hopping the curb left me short of breath. My shoes sounded like clogs adding an unwanted punch to Moby’s base that snapped up the enjoyment & distraction I needed, I wanted. Today was my first official day of training along my road to London, and if the steps in front of me were going to fall like these… God help me.

Running a marathon has been described as “cutting yourself unexpectedly”. You dip into the pain so gradually that the damage is done before you are aware of it. Unfortunately, when awareness comes, it is excruciating. My awareness was finely tuned.

I felt like an overtired child fighting sleep, I was restless, cranky and exhausted at the same time. I was looking for excuses. During the last month, I’d tried the half dozen water fountains scattered along Dallas & Beach Drive only to find them turned off. Tonight, I stopped by one nestled alongside some bare trees just north of the Oak Bay Marina. It worked! I don’t know what I appreciated more, the eight seconds that my legs stood still or the few ounces of water that trickled down my throat.

As I left the fountain I remembered something I read once, “if you’re tired and want to slow down, try speeding up first”, the next 40’ were enjoyable, tiring but tolerable.

I still remember the small plaque on the fountain; it was built in the loving memory of Ian MacMillan (sp). I doubt I ever met him, but I’ll remember him tonight.

Training: 1:10:55, AHR 136, MAX 150, approx. 16.5 km, 6:55 mi/pace. My achilles is feeling markedly better, perhaps 89%.