This is the view from the front door of my children's preschool. Nice, huh?
The reason I chose this shot for this post is that I'm grateful to the school right now, and not only for being beautifully situated. They are doing a program called Storytime Yoga (very Boulder). Their teacher tells a half-hour story and has them do related poses as she goes. Those of you with kids know that getting small ones to recount with any exactness the stories and activities from school is like peering into a roomful of treasure through a small slit with only a thin beam of light: you get tantalizing glimpses, but no accurate view. So I don't really know what Tuesday's Storytime Yoga tale was. But the tantalizing bit, shared with me by Ruth, is that it involved this mantra:
"Mountains are moveable."
Who knows what the real context was...But what I took away from it, after Ruth said it and then philosophically inserted her thumb into her mouth, was that impossible things can in fact happen. I *can* stop eating crap on a regular basis. I *can* qualify for Boston (even if they do take five minutes away from me when they redo the qualifying times).
And indeed the last two days have been good on the food front. I've also been diligent about my rest: the light has been out by 9:20 p.m. the last two nights, and yesterday I took a total rest day, bagging my usual Wednesday cross-training workout. This paid off when I ran 5 miles this morning at 8:24/mile with something that almost resembled ease, then tackled bootcamp class, which resumed Tuesday after its holiday hiatus, with lots of enthusiasm. Now, of course, I still am sobered by the fact that in order to make Boston I will have to run about this morning's pace for more than 5 times that distance. But that's in the future.
Ahead of me this weekend is just one small step: 12 miles at 9:13. I'm hoping to do it out at the Reservoir again. Happily, the frigid weather turned today. The snow is melting and a warm wind is blowing. It may be mucky out there on Saturday, but at least I won't be sporting a balaclava. I admit I'm dreading the six uphill miles that the "out" portion of the out-and-back course will entail.
But I can do it. No one said mountains have to be moved all at once.