Thursday, September 2, 2010

Run P-Nut Run

For as long as I can remember, Mr. Tea & the boys have had nicknames for me. 


I've always been one of those rare moms where when a little kid screams out "Mom!" I didn't turn around. 


Some of the nicknames were downright funny and would require some rather extensive explaining when people would hear them call me.


The boys are (almost) 15 & 16 now.  


They are both bigger, stronger & heavier than I am.


When we walk as a group, and I'm flanked by the men-folk, you can't even see me.


So, it seems appropriate that a new nickname was necessary to fit in with the changing times.


Thus, P-Nut was born.


P-nut as in peanut as in something tiny, petite, delicate, and a little crunchy.


Given the fact that I am WAY taller than the average woman--not to mention my sort of loud-in-your-face-personality; the name seemed appropos. That along with the fact that I am MUCH smaller than the men-folk, this new nickname seemed rather, well, fitting.


Yesterday as I was getting ready to run, and the boys were leaving for school. JMan says to me "Run Pnut Run".


Today, I had a speed session on the schedule. 


I HAVE to do speedwork. I know that I fade horribly in long races. I know that running is my weakness. 


I know the only way to get faster is TO RUN FASTER.


I know speedwork, works, but it's also painful getting there.


To top it off, I have to do it on a treadmill.


Of course I was nervous. Of course,  I doubted if I could do it. Every time I do a tempo run or speedwork or have to maintain a long run pace, I do it for Billy. Knowing that I'm going to be running a marathon with a friend has put me in a frame of mind that I always have to do my best because I can't bear to let him down. 


So, I run. I do my speedwork. I notched the treadmill up to a speed slightly faster than I was supposed to run. The first two intervals were ok. I knew the next two were going to be hard. When I got to the 3rd, I started thinking that I might not be able to hold on for my last interval.


When the last interval came, I had to focus on .25 miles at a time. 


It was hard. 


First I thought of Billy. I can't let him down.


Then, I thought of JMan, and I thought of Run PNut Run. 


Then, I went quiet. The kind of quiet where you just do. You don't think of the pain. You don't think about whether or not you can do it. Stare straight ahead. Keep moving.


It's the point where the voices stop but your body keeps moving.


Because you know if your body stops, the voices never will.









1 comment:

Wes said...

has jMan ever called you bunghole? That's what my fifteen year old calls me. Send me jMan's cell. We'll work out a deal :-)