Yesterday was a day of rest, today I will run again. I'm hungry. I'm excited. I am positive anticipation, motivation, hope and what I can only describe right now as energized want. I'm a fighter: this energy is in response to my soul feeling a little cheated after my last two marathons, mostly because the conditions were poor and it was raining with cold temperatures both times; not conducive to a positive race, partly because I was emotionally distracted. I suppose the energized want is stemming partly from this strong desire to complete a fall marathon in favorable weather, not as a runner or a sister, daughter or friend, but as a force.
In six days I run number 15 and aside from my usual wondering about this race, I cannot help but reminisce on Manchesters' past. I've completed more Manchesters than I have any other marathon. This will be my third running of this same marathon, my third year of conquering one of the more difficult marathons I will ever do, my third year on the ring of fire, my third year of rumbling in the hellion hills.
Manchester is unique and special to me, an unruly child with crazy hair and a bad report card. Manchester and I have a past record, actually - part of the course was part of my old cross-country course when I was much more of a spry, competitive runner in my teens. Running on that two-mile stretch through the woods of Derryfield always brings back bizarre memories of being bundled in sweatpants as a bookish teenager in the fall air, trying to be friendly with my teammates and boys I had schoolgirl crushes on at the time, but never really said much to do anything to bring any of it to fruition. Instead, I just ran and was quiet and soaked it all in during those fall days as a rather introspective youth. Those woods of Derryfield symbolize such change to me; it's staggering how far I've come since those days, decades ago. I wouldn't have it any other way. It was energized want that has gotten me to this space right now and back in those days, the energized want was most likely just incubating at the time.
This race is always my final marathon of the year, and for whatever reason, it always seems to never really fit into my race schedule, always an afterthought and ran in a complete whirlwind; the redheaded stepchild of my yearly race schedule. It always seems to have some sort of drama associated with it. The first year was coming off of a debilitating bout of pneumonia while still on antibiotics and having a dangerous person in my life tell me damaging-life altering things which would later lead to the Great Life Upheaval of 2010. Last year was in the midst of what seemed like a new, promising relationship at the time, quickly slid down a slippery slope due to no fault of my own; he was afraid to love, although I blamed myself at the time for loving him too much and too freely and too fiercely. I've only learned since then that no one can ever love enough, and as a result, I truly feel sorry for him and wish I could help because no one who is wonderful deserves a life of sadness. Water under the bridge and such. New leaves, new colors, different air, bullet dodged.
I don't quite know what this year will bring and I'm slightly sour about it. However, with experience comes wisdom, and I'm reminding myself that I'm experiencing the feeling of energized want about Manchester for a reason, even if I'm not quite certain of the exact answer. If I can feel energized want about running and running this ridiculously difficult course for a third year that I typically swear off at every yearly finish line, but then find myself somehow registered again and excited, then I can feel uninhibited energized want for someone, without question. Energized want is immutable, inarguable, clear, and just...is...but it's also simple and without any explanations required; sometimes the more that something is explained, the more that something becomes false, faulty, plastic, complicated, convoluted, confusing. Energized want is clear, basic, without question or hesitation, and maybe right now I'm feeling this way about Manchester as a reminder that I need to be cognizant of where energized want is felt in other arenas of my life. It should be all of them, really. What's the point in compromising?
In six days, I'll be opening up my heart again to run my unruly child. I don't know what number 15 will bring to me or show me, but whatever the day brings, it will bring another day of running happy and uninhibited, smiling in the fall sunshine, wild, untamed, free and feeling. There's no slowing down or cause for pause, right now, or ever for that matter. I no longer want a life, I only want a force.
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