I have been running though. Not completely diligently, but enough... I think.
So about 4 weeks ago, was my 10 mile run. D and I had been testing out Candler Park and Druid Hills, because well, hills. The streets were ok, the course was hard, it was hot and humid, my legs always hurt afterwards. So obviously I was doing something right. This particular run was different. There was a huge neighborhood garage sale in Druid Hills. Although the streets are wide, trying to avoid multiple females in oversized Lexus SUVs who are texting or facebooking or what not was not for me. I only wanted to concentrate on running hills. Death by text was not on my agenda. What should have been an out and back became an out, crossover a park, run around a street, get sort of lost, and using too much mental energy, and finally sit down at a MARTA station to regain my focus. I was hot, tired, and frustrated. I googled where the bar was. I googled where the car was. I texted D and told him I was going to walk to the car (the bar would have required more dodging cars). So instead of 10, I ran/walked 8.5. My legs were sore, but I was pretty sure the mental exhaustion was overtaking everything. I'd just gut it out on the 12 miler 2 weeks later. I did happen to also notice miles 3-8 was a gradual uphill, but eh...that's the purpose of training runs.
The following week it started raining. Like on Monday. And all week. On Saturday D had a mandatory company picnic to go to, so I was left to run 7 on my own. I finally got my act together and started driving to the hills. The sky opened up. I can still run. Except my car steered itself to the gym. I would run 7 miles there. No problem. I got out of the car, and walking into the gym...my ankles got splashed on. Yes, good decision. Inside the gym, I nearly passed out, it was so humid in there. I was completely drenched in sweat before I even got on the treadmill. OK, 3 miles. Still, no biggie. 12 miles the next week, although it was still raining.
Friday night, we got carbed up, and ready.
|Sausage, Extra Cheese, and Mushroom|
|Proof of under 65 minutes!|
So now was taper mode. Except I still was nervous. We talked about doing a 10 miler on Saturday. OK. On the hills. No problem. It finally stopped raining. On Wednesday, the forecasters were calling for a gorgeous weekend. On Thursday, gorgeous. On Friday, "Move your Saturday indoors." We carbed up. We thought about postponing the run to Sunday when we knew it would be good. No, we just have to gut this out. If it was wet on Saturday we'd go to the Silver Comet, to avoid getting splashed on by cars.
Saturday at 2:30 am the dogs got up to bark at the thunder and lightning, for 3 hours. Shiiiiiit. I finally stirred around 7:30 and D and I talked each other into staying focused. The rain was going to be in East Georgia (despite the downpour outside our window). We checked another forecast and clear as day on the Silver Comet. We got dressed and went over there.
I had been wearing a tank top all summer, so this was my first long run in sleeves. Right as we were about to start, a man said to us, "Why do we torture ourselves?" I was thinking, "So we can all look as nice as you," but instead we just laughed. D took off. I started. The man did who knows what.
I ran/walked my 9/1 stuff. I had 2 Clif Blocks (2 not 2 packages). I did some math to figure out when I would eat them...I'm not sure what kind of math I used, since I came up with 4 miles and 7.5, but eh. I decided I would do 9/1 for 5 miles and then got to 4/1 for the next 5. And I noticed my distance on my watch was far off from the mile markers. (at .9, I had that I had run for .6). My first mile was 16+. Second mile was uneventful. I didn't really think about anything. The mile was closer to 17. 3 was back at 16. I was tired. I couldn't really figure out why I was going so slow. Maybe I'll just stop at Mile 4. Where was Mile 4? Why am I going to stop? I passed D who was on the return (out and back). I was jealous. Finally got up to the Depot and Mile 4. Getting to Mile 5 and the turn around seemed to take forever. And it did. 17:50 minutes. WTF? But I finally got to turn around. I started the 4/1 stuff. I seemed to be going faster. And I was 17:20. OMG! I got back to the Depot and sat down to text D where I was and estimated time to the car (he usually goes and runs errands). I really wanted to say to come get me. But instead I remembered my friend M, and the mantra Si Se Puede!
I got up and decided to continue on.
|3.85 to go, but not counting at all|
It started to rain. So much for being on the West Side of Atlanta, much less not anywhere near East Georgia. It felt good. I was moving slow but I was moving. Si se puede, girl. God, I wish I could remember what that means. Anyway, I had a few negative thoughts come in my head. I was still upset by the time. Except Mile 7 came in as my fastest. 15:55. Still upset, I rationalized. I already knew I was not getting a PR on my half-marathon. That wasn't the purpose of this HM. I could barely walk starting last November. And now I was going to FINISH a Half Marathon, provided I could finish this 10 miles. Si se puede. My times started back at around 16 minutes. That was ok. I'm running to finish, to prove to myself I can still do this. I started counting down the distance. I got to the bridge (2 miles to go). I was going to finish this even if I walked it. But why walk it? Push those legs, they still have stuff left in them. Sing your song. Remember to ask Yas for some playlist music. Just keep moving. The 4 minutes seemed to click off fast. I finally got to the .9 mile marker with .3 miles left. I was going to do this. 2 runners passed me. They told me I had it and to keep up. I remember them passing me at Mile 4. That was ok. I was going to finish. I could do this. And finally, for the first time this year...I ran 10 miles.