until the spots stopped

I spent an unnatural amount of time trying not to pass out this morning. Bad run. It was a "back-off" week, and I may have been over-confident. 12 miles just seems silly now. 12 miles is for children and puppies. 12 miles is for heels and skirts while eating pie.

Not so much, no.

I ran 6. It was hot. My body didn't feel right. I kept having to pause in the shade and squat until the spots stopped. So I walked the rest. It took a while, so I had time to think on things.

I thought:

Music--really, when it comes to running, whatever works, you know? If you want to listen to a bunch of 90's Pantera, nobody can revoke your hippie card. Same for Britney Spears and Fergie. But if you're 36, and Miley Cyrus's The Climb has snuck into your iPod, you should make sure you have plenty of Grace Potter and Eminem to balance things out.

Grace Potter--Totally badass. I want to sing and write songs like that.

Foresight--Foresight is funny business. I can't look ahead 10 minutes to say, "Hey, P, if you eat these potato chips, you're going to be sick." But put an idea in my head, and I will--in an instant-- project 20 years ahead to some kind of fantastical outcome that usually includes an interview with Diane Sawyer and a Grammy. Seriously. Give me any idea. Any idea and all. And I will tell you how it leads to Diane and a Grammy.

It's All In Your Head--I hear this about running, that at a certain point, it's just a mind game. I'm on the fence on this. It seems like kind of a dumb thing to say, because it's only a mind game if your body is already on board. My brain is a pretty magical place, but no amount of fantasy is going to put fluid in my body when I'm dehydrated.

Phones--I wish we didn't have cell phones. I wish we could go back to phones with twirly cords mounted on the kitchen wall... and no voicemail. I really do. And letters. I want to write letters. And I want people to write letters to me. And I want them to come in the mail with a cool stamp.

Pride--I think I may have quit this marathon training business a few weeks ago if it wasn't for my personalized race bib. I registered early, so my race bib will have my first name printed in big letters. It is the thought of that lonely race bib laying unclaimed at pick-up--so sad--that makes me too proud to quit. I mean, how many PATRESAs are going to be running this thing?

Swimming--I think I would swim if I could properly execute a flip turn.

Triathlons--I think I would train for triathlons if I could properly execute a flip turn. I don't like riding bikes, but I could get over that. But swimming. No, I need flip turns. And space. I don't want all those elbows and feet in my face. And also, I don't think I like the idea of riding a bicycle with a wet butt.

Running As Life Lessons--It's too obvious. I can't bear to print it--training for the long haul, pushing beyond your limits, slowing down when your body says to, anything is possible with a plan, it's always hard at first, keep going... I know the application. I just don't (apply). But I'm pretty sure if I can yank this marathon out of my buns, I probably have a novel up there, too.