Is my glass half full?

Pessimism versus realism? Po-tay-toe, po-ta-toe. It's all semantics. I've always thought I leaned towards the glass is half empty side of the fence. Optimism is a word that was rarely in my vocabulary. I'm not quite sure why. I've had quite a bit of good fortune in my life. Family, friends, career. OK, so the love life has had plenty of lackluster moments, but can I really complain? In general, I have a positive outlook. I just don't dare call it optimism. I used to say expect the worst, hope for the best. My thought was I'd never be disappointed... realism.

Well, lately I've been toeing the optimism line, and last weekend, I was caught. I ran in a half marathon event and had an interesting time of it. Now, I know I talk about running a lot, but training for a marathon has become all consuming. I'm either running, recovering from running, or thinking about running these days. It's exhausting, both literally and figuratively. I've got just under six weeks to go until marathon day and was beginning to think I could do it. I've run 18 miles and felt I had enough fuel in the tank at the end to run several more. I've also run 18 miles and thought there's no way I can run another inch. Sunday's half-marathon was more extreme than that second 18-mile run.

This whole mess has been building up over the last month. It started with a new pair of shoes. What was supposed to be the cure-all, turned into the problem. They were clown shoes, too big, which led to plenty of foot and knee pain. I did manage to parlay that into a weekend of sleeping in, aka 'resting my injured limbs,' but in the end it reared it's ugly head. Right in the middle of the half-marathon as a matter of fact. It's a very overwhelming feeling to think you can't continue running knowing that you're still 7 miles from the finish line.

That was me. In enough pain that by the final mile, I could barely run one consecutive minute. How was I supposed to run a full marathon, when I can barely finish a half? I saw the months of training and my marathon dreams going down the drain. I was aggravated, infuriated, and defiant. I can not be defeated by this. I truly thought I was going to, am going to, may still have to give up. I laid on the couch after the run with ice packs. I scheduled one of those oh-so-pleasant sports massages. I've taken plenty of ibuprofen. And now, I can almost walk without a hint of pain. I am thinking about lacing up my running shoes again. And I'm thinking once again I can do it.