This weekend we were supposed to get a massive amount of rain. I forget what they said on the radio, but basically expect some urban flooding. The creeks and reservoirs would be fine because they're so low right now, but the streets would not be able to handle the deluge that was coming.
This is what I like about the prospect of being a meteorologist. You don't have to ever be right and you still get paid the same amount.
Anyway, so I was worried about the rain on my 15 miler. It did get a little misty and I steeled myself for the deluge...but it never materialized. It was fairly warm, around 60 and not very windy at all. Turned into a nice run.
I've been trying to slow my long runs down lately in order to keep my body from breaking down too much, but sometimes I have problems with that. Today I made a valiant effort at slowing down, but ran into a few issues along the way. First off, sub 8 minute miles feel fantastic to me at the start of the run. I love my stride, my cadence, and the way when I look down expecting my Garmin to say 4 miles, it says 5.2 and I think, Oh man, better Gu up!
Oh lovely GU. I have a love/hate relationship with GU. Number one, I know what it feels like to totally bonk- when your body says "That's it, we're done here". Providing your body with nourishment during endurance activities helps keep that at bay. Real food would be nice, but my inability to chew on pasta while running could lead to serious injury or death. However, squirting thick sugar gel into your mouth while running and then expecting your stomach to handle it is a lot to ask. Breathing with sticky gel in your mouth is tough. I've made it a rule to no longer attempt to do so while running uphill. And for the next 20 minutes, my stomach threatens to reject the mass invasion of sugar.
It's interesting to watch all the faces and actions of other runners and walkers while I'm doing a long run. You can tell where a runner is at in his run by his body language and the amount of desolation in his eyes. Some runners smile, nod, say good morning or wave. Others stare straight ahead or at the ground. In general, runners seem more likely to smile on a downhill than an uphill...completely immersed in their private battle.
After turning around and heading towards home, I passed by another girl running towards me. I gave her the best smile I could muster at the time (I was starting to fade myself due to running the first part too fast) and she tried to force a smile, but her eyes seemed so pleading and desperate. After having gone by her, I smiled even more. Lady, I can't save you from your run. I can't make your run any less miserable. I can't even make my own run less miserable.
I had not managed to slow my run by much. Near the end of the run, I let myself pick it up a little, as long as I promise to slow down on the last mile for a decent cool down. With about 5 miles to go, my body started to ache. My glutes tightened and my legs began to feel inflamed. Sometimes it's like I can feel the inflammation in the little tiny muscle fibers. I don't know if that's possible, but that's what I envision when I begin to feel that vague, rusty ache.
Alright Carrie, if you want to pick it up, now's the time. I opened up my stride a little and had a little chat with Agony, my good friend who occasionally joins me at the end of my long runs.
Just slow down, you're allowed to slow down you know. This is a long run. My watch beeped. 7:53. Geez, slow it down. At this point I always realize exactly why those other runners looked so defeated. I wonder what my face looked like as I forced a smile or "mornin" at each passing runner.
Beep- 7:55. Whatever, just finish this thing. 3 miles to go.
I turned right onto my familiar bridge. I've developed a little mantra when things get tough "Run easy" I repeat in my head until I relax and my stride becomes effortless. "Run easy" I breathed quietly, and tried to relax my stride and cadence. Find that effortless spot. I found it for maybe 10 seconds. "Run easy" I tried again. I wanted to stop, I wanted to cry, I didn't want to hurt anymore and I got this fabulous idea in my head to invent liquid tylenol for adults.
Beep- 7:53. Let loose, one more mile before your cool down mile. I opened up my stride and tried to put my head somewhere else. Anywhere but here. The concrete freeways around me disappeared. The creek on my left disappeared. The chain link fence lining the path disappeared. I let my eyes relax and get absorbed into the pavement in front of me, dodging people, dogs and bikes. I pushed past a runner taking up half the path. I could see the stonework of the light-rail path. Almost to the road.
Beep- 7:35. Geezo. I laughed and shook my head. So much for slowing down my long runs. The problem is that I know the faster I go the sooner it's over. When I just want to be done, I pick it up, even when I'm suffering the pain of having run the first half too fast.
I turned right up the ramp to the street and made myself slow down. It didn't feel any better than running faster and it pained me to think I was only delaying getting to stop and walk.
When I was signing up for my first marathon, the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon, so many years ago, I joined a running club that was raising money for charity. Our coach talked to us about running a marathon. He said "People run marathons because it feels so good to stop". That came into my head at mile 13 today when all I wanted to do was stop. But you don't stop, because you're not there yet. You're not home and home is where you get to stop. Home is where the food is. I don't think I'd ever say I decided to run a marathon just so I could experience that feeling when you can finally stop running, but I do intimately know that feeling...that overwhelming need to just stop running. And I've continued on, not out of some mental toughness or deep drive, but out of desperation to just get home.
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