The Bolder Boulder is probably my second favorite race in all the world (no one can top Disney races, sorry…no-line pictures with characters?!?). In 2008 it was my first race “back” and I trained so hard for it. At that point, I had never raced anything longer than a 5K. I ran a 55:54 that day and remember every step. I remember that I had no watch even, so I had to wait for the official text message with my time, which came when we were out to breakfast to celebrate (we still did that then). I was so full of joy and so very proud of myself. Then came those dark months full of miscarriage and loss. I didn’t turn to running to help me cope, but I eventually figured out that I needed to. Once I got going again, I had to stop, because the soon-to-be Ainsley demanded it with her partial placenta previa (I should have known this was the first in many “demands” she would make…oof, this kid is tough). I knew I’d get back to it once she was born and I did. I dragged my seriously chubbed up self out there and trained. I ran BB in 2011 and pr’d the course by 5 minutes. In 2012, I pr’d it again by 3 more minutes. And in between those races, I pr’d 5ks and 10ks like they were candy, ran my first (and second and third) half marathons, and my first full marathon. I have run the BB with full training, with three full weeks off ahead of time, with some running here and there, and no matter what I still loved it.
And somehow, some way, it’s time for the Bolder Boulder again.
A spring full of running has worn me down. I suspect I’m a bit overtrained and could use a break, but here’s the thing: I love the Bolder Boulder. I love races. I am registered for another full marathon in the fall (whaaaaaat?!?). So I’m going down there tomorrow, and although the temptation to just move on down in waves and have fun, I’m going to toe the line with my BA wavemates and come hell or high water, I’m going to race. The pictures at mile 4 will probably again feature me with my closed eyes, open mouth and terrible form. The sun will probably come out juuuuust as I come down Pearl Street, blinding me and making me question my sanity. My quads will probably burn coming down Folsom Street and my GOD no positive thinking can erase the torture of that damn hill into the stadium, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to laugh at clever signs, I’m going to want to stop for bacon and beer, I’m going to be jealous of the slip and sliders. You know why? Because I’m a runner, damnit. Despite starting my racing career in last place (that’s a true story…my first cross country meet ever, I was dead effing last), I’m going to do the best work I can tomorrow. And I’m going to love the Bolder Boulder.
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