Breaking Me Down

Sometimes I look at a hill, or a steep set of stairs in Central Park, pondering the dozens of times I will have to run up and down them in varying combinations, and it feels like the incline is slapping me in the face. Breaking me down bit by bit, as each ascent gets harder and harder, my stomach cramps, my breathing labors, my legs replace muscle with lead. Our coach is watching, which makes my labored breathing sound even louder, my steps seem even slower. I spend the whole workout feeling tired, pathetic.

Then I get home, take a shower, and make a protein shake. My muscles are sore, my mind reviews the work I've just done and I make peace with the fact that it isn't supposed to be easy. I might not feel good, or strong, but I finished. I finished and I can be at peace with what I've done that day, knowing that by the time the marathon rolls around, I'll be ready. It won't be easy either, but I'll be ready.