Alaska Chronicles 2: The Itch 1 comment
When I was five years old, my entire family got the chicken pox. A Polaroid picture shows me with lop-sided pony tails, red spots covering every inch, drowning in a big Mickey Mouse T-shirt. I’m smiling gallantly like “wow. What an adventure.”
My mom warned me if I itched, I would have scars for life.
She was right. I do.
But you remember what it was like: you tried to ignore it, cover it in pink calamine lotion, and freeze it with ice cubes. But in the end, I itched. That’s just the kind of gal I am. It’s the kind of runner I am.
Marathoners fall into two categories.
Those that cross the finish line and vow to NEVER do it again. Every painful step reminds them they were crazy. They heard about black toenails, bleeding chaffing spots, and screaming hamstrings. But the difference between hearing and FEELING pushed them to cross it off their bucket list and move onto Skydiving and belly dancing.
Then there are the ones that get “the itch”. The itch might start before you cross the finish line of your first marathon when you realize you’ll have to run another one to meet your goal. It might be the weight of that medal hanging from your neck. But most often in comes in the post-race celebration. As you’re drinking a beer (you earned those carbs!) and re-hashing the race with fellow runners, the question pops up: what’s next? And in the post-race glow you make big plans to run another marathon. A better marathon. A faster marathon.
And you do.
OK, so it’s not always better and it’s not always faster. In fact, the best you can say is that it’s another one. But once you get the itch, it’s there. You try to take some time off. But it drives you crazy until you JUST DO IT.
Spending time with a group of runners with the itch is humorous. Sure, they’re limping, they’re icing, they’re barley walking. And already, they’re asking: “What’s next?” They can’t help it. The thought is there. And it’s driving them crazy.
