There’s a saying when you’re getting ready for the bar exam (after law school or for any test, for that matter): “either you know it or you don’t.” I can’t count how many times I’ve just taken that and stopped studying because seriously, at that point either you know it or you don’t.
I wasn’t cramming the week of the bar exam and I didn’t study at night while I was at the hotel during the bar exam. For the record the Texas Bar Exam was worse than having two babies. I swear. At that point, there was nothing left to do. I had a summer of filling my brain with everything I never learned in law school and that was all there was. I listened to the roller coasters and the people screaming at Six Flags having fun while I used headphones to listen to music to block out the gajillion people all around me in the exercise room who all wanted to talk about the bar exam. NO THANKS.
Oh, did I mention that I was like 4 months pregnant? Or maybe 3. Who knows. Either way, I was pregnant too. You know, go big or go home?
But I passed.
The first time.
Seriously, I have no idea how it happened but man am I glad because that beast of an exam was two and a half days and was the most exhausting and miserable thing ever. You thought I was joking when I wrote up there that it was worse than having a baby, didn’t you? Oh no. It totally meant it.
I realized I never write about being a lawyer and never write about running, which is odd seeing as how both of those are in my tag line. So here you get a twofer.
I’m scheduled to run 13.1 miles on Saturday. I’ll be waking up at 5:00 in the morning to drive somewhere I don’t really know that well and meeting one of my best pals who is now running obsessed. Funny thing? I’ll be running with a classmate from law school too. She’s friends with my friend–because of running. Random huh?
Anyway, I haven’t gotten in a lot of run time. Yes, I run. Yes, I get out there but I haven’t put in the distance. The farthest I’ve gone this summer is 6 miles while pushing Allie. This weekend I planned to long run. Coulda shoulda woulda.
This is what I got. Not so much 13 miles. But at this point, either I’ve got it or I don’t. Going out and running 10 miles during the week isn’t going to help me cross the finish line on Saturday. In fact, it’ll probably some how end up with me getting hurt and I’m amazingly cautious about that because I easily get sidelined and I’m not letting that happen. I do not take running for granted because I know how long I can be held up when I get hurt.
The accountability thing is working out well though. Not that my phone is blowing up with people harassing me about running, but it’s a self-accountability thing. Like last night when the girls were in bed and I knew dinner was just simmering and J was working out. NO excuses. So I went. And that’s what I did. Not bad for a Sunday evening before dinner.
That’s the thing about running. It isn’t necessarily about showing others what you’ve done. Quite honestly I’m sure most of you don’t give a crap how many miles I’ve run this month. But I can see my mileage and I know what I can push myself to do. And it’s always a matter of getting out there, whether it’s 2 miles or 5, it’s still mileage.