Tempting My Running Fate

That's me during last year's marathon after 25.75 miles, and yes I'm smiling.

Yeah that's totally me, a running rebel. Crossing my arms in defiance against the gods of running. Either that or I'm the the lady in the corner curled up in the fetal position wondering what Mack truck just rolled over me. Oh wait, that wasn't a truck, it was my 20 miler on Saturday, that yes I ran of my own free will. Nick is shaking his head.

Last week wasn't so hot. Our household was just generally feeling blah. Stuffiness, headaches, tired, and my asthma started acting up again. This is exactly when I got sick last year in the training cycle. Arg! Not again! Last year I missed my last long run, got so sick I wound up on oral steroids, and wasn't even sure if I'd be able to run the marathon. Absolutely determined not repeat last year's woes, I sucked down vitamin C, went to bed early, generally took it easy, crossed my fingers, and hoped I'd be able to run my 20 miler as planned with Ana-Maria.

Saturday morning came. I was nervous, a little tired, but otherwise ready to go. Yet something just kept trying to stop me. First it was my socks. Yes, my socks. I put on my favorite socks, laced up my shoes, and it was just all wrong. They didn't feel right. On a 20 mile run, socks and shoes are sort of a big deal. I ripped off my shoes and went running in search of another pair socks, found an adequate enough match, and headed out the door a few minutes later than I planned. I got into my car, programmed my GPS, and was on my way. Then I noticed the tire pressure gauge light was on. Sigh. I turned around, ran to the house, told Nick the short sordid tale, jumped in his car, and was now much later than I had planned to be. Got to where I was meeting Ana-Maria, lept out of the car, and dropped my phone! Picked it up and it wasn't recognizing the sim card. I always text Nick when I meet someone for a run to let him know I made it there okay. It's a must. If Nick doesn't get a text in a reasonable amount of time, he's going to pack Kaylee up in the car and come looking. That's sort of the point, right? So now I'm panicking. I ran into the Panera Bread and asked the manager if they had a pay phone. Nope. But this super nice stranger let me use his phone. Thank you Mister Stranger, where ever you are! This runner and her husband greatly appreciated your kindness!

Okay deep breaths. Ana-Maria and I started running. This part was better. I didn't really feel like running, but I love running with people and Ana-Maria is really nice so I didn't even notice that I was tired. The first 15 miles were great, but then I started to notice that I was feeling tired. Also, I tried a new gel, a chocolate powergel. I'm not sure if it's completely fair to blame the gel, but my intestines started to feel like they were going to explode. Needless to say, at that point I really started to focus on the run. Around 17.5 miles, I told Ana-Maria that 20 rather than 22 miles would be good. She asked if I was having trouble breathing. Maybe she could tell, but it wasn't until later that I noticed my chest hurt. Oh, I forgot to mention it earlier, but my inhaler was clogged and couldn't use it that morning. Anyway, she pretty much dragged my butt the last 1.5 miles, and the only thing keeping me going was not wanting to be embarrassed.

By the time I got home, I was shaky, having trouble walking, and my intestines were still threatening to explode or implode (either way it was bad). I'm having trouble remembering a run that I felt worse after. It was bad. Bad enough, that it made me wonder what I was thinking with this whole marathon thing. That night I had to sleep on my back (I never sleep on my back) because my left IT band hurt and my right hip and groin hurt. I had trouble getting out of bed the next morning, but I generally felt a lot better.

So what's the point? I shook my fists in fury at the running gods and ran my 20 miler although everything seemed stacked against me, only to feel awful and have my confidence severely shaken. What did I gain for my effort? Well, now I know on my worst possible day I can still run 20 miles at 7:58 pace. And that's something worth knowing. So thank you Ana-Maria for dragging my butt to the finish.

Last Week's Training Log:
Monday: 60 minutes on the stationary bike
Tuesday: 6 mile run at 9:30 pace
Wednesday: Off
Thursday: 60 minutes on the stationary bike
Friday: Off
Saturday: 20 mile run at 7:58 pace
Sunday: Off