First, let me just say that Bascom Hill humbled me. Wow. I could actually feel the last drop of oxygen being removed from my blood stream and the cold, evil infill of lactic acid start pulsing through my veins, and then I would look up to realize I was only half way to the top. Brutal. But it was a great workout. Dodging students was kind-of fun. And, as Dano pointed out, we did pass at least three people walking their bikes up the hill. Oh sweet victory! But in all seriousness, had that hill stood between me and class when I was in college (it is smack in the middle of campus)....I would have missed A LOT of class. That thing takes some determination.
Once we finished our 6x1:45 repeats, it was off for a nice cool-down along the lakeshore path and through the Union Terrace to finish things off. The cold breeze was whipping up whitecaps on the lake and most of the classic sunburst chairs were empty. Much different than the humid summer nights filled with lingering beer drinkers, but still a beautiful scene. Fall is definitely on the way.
On the way home me and my obnoxious spandex stopped by the 11th floor of Meriter Hospital to enjoy the view. Unfortunately, enjoying that particular view means you are probably visiting someone who's taken up temporary residence there. Funny how that works, Grandma's currently got the best view in Madison, but I'm sure the only view she wants to see right now is the one from her kitchen window. But she's in good spirits, comparing her heartrate to her "marathon running" grandaughter, and rockin' some compression socks of her own (wish insurance had paid for mine!). Aren't grandmas great? You should all go call your grandma's right now (if you're lucky enough to have one or two you can call). You'd probably make her day....and maybe even yours.
And making my day yesterday was my all out attack on the laundry beast. Definite progress was made. And somewhere between getting ferocious piles of laundry under control, and my head hitting the pillow, I've managed to read the prologue of A Race Like No Other. Whohoo. I know. Pathetic. But my point here is that in those seven. whopping. pages. I read a dangerous little statistic; OPRAH'S MARATHON TIME. Dangerous, why? Because now I want to beat it. And it is just close enough to what I think is possible for this marathon that I might actually try. And while you may be thinking that a little competitiveness is a good thing, I'm not convinced. Based on what happened somewhere around mile 9 of Saturday's 17-miler, when I got the crrrr-azy idea that I could try to beat my half marathon PR (in a high-volume-week training run -- brilliant), I do not think having any sort of time goal in mind for this marathon would be a good idea. Because the train wreck that was miles 14 through 17 is not something I need to see again. Especially not when there will be photo documentation.
And isn't that why we do this crazy stuff? For the finish photo? Or maybe its the sexy socks? I'm not sure anymore, all my oxygen is being used for muscle repair at the moment and my eyes are getting very heavy. Perhaps the "why" question is better left for another day......
Now go call your grandma. :)