Their final voyage came last night on a recovery run just longer than two miles. I have to say, even two miles, which last year would barely have counted as a run, feel amazing right now. (Amazing as in sweaty, huffing puffing, hard work, with the heat the way it is this week.) It's such a blessing to be able to do ANY running. I'm not the only one glad to be back on the roads.
Rudy has given me many mournful looks over the winter and early spring as the Boston shoes lay dormant. Now when we go for our short jaunts, for the first quarter mile or, he gallops at full speed (or tries to--it's like a football player resistance exercise with me as the dead weight). He calms down soon and we run as normal, but I'm sure we look pretty comical to the neighbors.
It seems a little silly to feel so sentimental about a pair of shoes, but having missed Boston this year because of injury and with the outlook on going back hazy, I'm treasuring memories of last year. And retiring the shoes that took me through the race represents the severing of a link. Now they will enter the rotation of gardening shoes, an occupation no less honorable and, increasingly, just as important to my sanity.
But, as always, I must look ahead. Right now I feel like I'm starting from scratch, but I'm hopeful that I'll regain my fitness over the summer. Taking shape as a possibility for this year is the Tecumseh Trail Marathon in early December. I think my only goal for it would be for it to NOT be my slowest marathon ever. So, anything under 5:09. That seems like the doable-yet-challenging, post-injury type of goal that I can get behind.