"Strong is the New Skinny."

With the wind gusting through you and stopping only at the black sky, the early morning 15 miler you chose for that first Friday in March can seem decidedly more harsh than anticipated and ragged like a hem line slowly falling.  Edges unraveled by the time, weather and life, you put your feet on the cold floor and believe you can.

It is the kind of run you respect;
The run that you flip all of the lights on for;
The moment for which you choose your mittens wisely;
The kind of run that warrants "Cupcake Thursday;"
The run that humbles your ligaments and invigorates your inner butterfly; and
That which separates Runners from everyone else.

The longest run of 2012 and since the Philadelphia Marathon, my first March run stormed in as a lion would, fearless and proud, ready to attack.  It left no room for doubt or anxiety.  It barely left time for breakfast.  This was as an electric of a run as I've had this year; ballsy and, at times, painful, this course was hilly, fast in between and a complete bitch throughout.  Quite simply, it made me find my strength. 

I had to dig down for the first time since Philly-Marathon-Mile-22.  And so I did. And over the hills I flew.  Stronger, harder, faster than before, the miles melted down and, despite the wind, the sweat poured off my face as if July was present, soaking my Under Armour.  I believed I was strong enough and therefore I was.  I believed that the miles would fade steadily and they did.  I saw my quads struggling uphill and felt my hamstrings lengthening in the decline.  My body was strong underneath me and I realized it.  Gone was my perception of a skinny, lanky girl and in its place was the epitome of compact strength.   All in one place, ready for action and unafraid of falling.

This is the run that reminded me to be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies. 
(~ Mother Teresa)