New York, New York

I've been in a little bit of a funk these last few days with my exercising.  I've been lacking motivation - I just want to lay in bed when the early alarm goes off.  I don't want to run or exercise.

The mind is a fickle thing.  How is that one day you are are raring to go and the next you could care less?

I skipped my Tuesday run this week - I just couldn't for the life of me get out of bed.  I ran 3 miles of hills yesterday, dragging my sorry rear up and down the inclines, including Hilda.  Today I woke up at 5:30am without the alarm and after 30 minutes of trying to talk myself out of getting up, I finally rolled out of bed.

I sleepily put on my running skirt and shoes and headed out the door, with my playlist set to shuffle.

The second song made my heart and mind wake up.

Frank Sinatra and his famous New York New York.

Verrazano Bridge, the start of the NYC Marathon

I remembered why I have to run 4 miles today.  I'm running the New York City Marathon in 115 days!

All of a sudden, I had a spring in my step and a smile on my face!  I felt lighter and much happier. And most importantly, happier running.

I don't know why my mind does this to me.  I know it happens to everyone, this lack of motivation. My goal seems far away - 115 days - but it's not that far away at all.  That's the thing with marathon training - it takes time!  I can't just wake up and run a marathon.  It takes days and days of miles and miles.  It's easy to lose track of the goal when you are weeks away from the race.  But you need to keep building your endurance and strength.

Frank made me realize that this morning.  That I'll have good days and bad, but as long as I keep hitting the pavement, my goal will be reached.

It really is all about putting one foot in front of the other.
On my pink miles!

Pitbull, Carly and me. Running in One Direction.

I've always been a lover of music.  I've played the piano all my life, and the clarinet in high school. Sang in Gilbert and Sullivan musicals.  There is almost always some music playing in the house somewhere.

And I can't run without my music either.  I've tried.  Every so often, I think that I'll listen to the birds chirping their early morning songs while I run.  But that doesn't get me moving up the hills like some heavy duty hip hop does.  I need my tunes.

I love a varied playlist - I'm eclectic all the way.  I'll go from Adele to ZZ Top in a heartbeat, with John Denver thrown in for some wholesomeness.  I'm hoping his easy going lyrics balance with Eminem shouting and swearing at me in the early morning.

Yes, I'm a fan.  Awesome running music.

(Speaking of Eminem - one day last year I was running at the park, listening to him curse through Till I Collapse.  I ran past a nun in her habit who was saying her rosary.  I wondered if we canceled each other out.)

Music motivates me. It makes me go faster.  It helps me up Hilda.  It entertains me.

And I sing when I run.  I play my air guitar.  I bang my air drums.  And I love it.  I'm sure people driving past me think I'm having a seizure or something.  But isn't it better to be getting some strange looks on the road than sitting at home in front of the boob tube?

This past week I've had two of my fastest runs ever.  My usual route is 4 miles and I ran it this morning in 44:15.  That's the fastest I've ever done!  And that includes 4 pretty good hills.

And I have several people to thank for that awesome time -

Pitbull, for telling me to get back in time.
Carly Rae Jepsen, for telling me that she might call me. Maybe.
One Direction, for telling me that I'm beautiful.
Florence and the Machine, for telling me my dog days are over.  That I run fast for my mother, father, children, sisters and brothers.

And most of all, Beyonce.  Did she tell you? Girls run the world.