not who I seem to be

It was exhilarating during the Tucson race to garner the applause due a Marathon Maniac. As early as the start line I thought of taking the masking T-shirt off, and move forward in the full splendour of it. But it was far too cold, too vain and impractical to do so. I waited until it was warm.

Mile six or seven, at the foothills of the Catalinas. The T-shirt crumbled in the dust, and suddenly, a golden stamp on my breast, I belonged. People waived, thrust their tumb up, applauded, cheered, praised, engaged, acknowledged. I felt like the member of a select club I had always aspired to belong to.

And I felt like an impostor.

How much of a Marathon Maniac am I, when I doubt I am going to even run next year? This season of marathon running has been a definite high point in my life - definitely a culmination of achievement, on a spiritual level even more so than on the physical one. But I cannot keep this rhythm up for any longer, and simply running for the sake of running is not who I am.

I am not a runner. I have what it takes to run a marathon or more - perseverence. I have what it takes to become a Marathon Maniac - an inclination toward the extreme.

But I do not find enjoyment in the sheer experience of running, and still have to filter out what I will keep and what I will renounce.

I have the remaining slothful days of this year to figure it out.