Run, Rhoda, Run.

"They don't tell you about that in the brochure."

I have heard this phrase from at least 2 experienced sources this week when talking about my training. Last Saturday, it was Yassos, an interval exercise apparently used to gauge your speed, but which only served to frustrate and embarrass me enough to walk off the track and have a one-woman pity party for 5 minutes. There were tears. I'm not proud. TC assured me this was standard.

Then, Monday, it was shin splints. I went for a run like a good girl, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS RAINING, and my legs started to burn. The act of picking up my feet was painful. What was supposed to be a 4 mile run ended up being less than 2. I felt defeated. Weak. I complained to Vickie on the way home from the Run of Shame, and toward the end of the call, she said "You know, this probably won't make you feel better, but you're talking like a runner." I expressed my disbelief, probably with the use of vulgarity. She persisted. "Rachel. You're *complaining* because you didn't run as far as you wanted to, because you pushed your body too hard, because you want this so badly. You are a runner." It made me feel better.

Coach Andy refers to us as "endurance athletes". It's hilarious to me to think of myself as an athlete of any kind, but endurance is a word I'm familiar with. I've endured a lot. Everyone does, I suppose. Lots of people have endured things far worse than I'll ever have to. But we accept what we get, the good and the bad, and we roll on. Even when it hurts so much we think the next step will break something. But it doesn't. Sometimes we need to rest and ice a little, but we keep going. Push through it until the next unexpected obstacle comes up, and then we get through that one, too. We endure. Because there are an awful lot of things they don't tell you about in the brochure.