It was bound to happen. I don’t know if it was a snowstorm derailing my usual Sat. a.m. run or if it was the cold or what. 12 miles totally psyched me out. I was nervous and worried about this run. Dreading it. Not sure if I could finish. Not wanting to try. Why now? I expected this to come at the 14 miler—longer than I have ever run at one time. I did a half marathon. 12 is a mile shy of that. I don’t know how to describe the anxiety I had about this run all week. I was freaked out.
Nothing seemed to help. I plotted my route on G-maps pedometer trying to make myself feel better. This told me I needed to cover at least 3 suburbs to accomplish the distance in a loop. Not helpful. I bought “nutrition” (more on that in a future post) for this run. That only reminded me that I was going to be running long enough to need food. I tried to think about how great the half was. All I could remember was being tired and sore. Shoot. How am I going to do this?
The day came for the run. I had a belt with 3 water bottles, 6 cliff shot blocks and a package of sport beans. This in addition to the 4 layers of clothes, ipod, sunglasses, house keys and written directions on my person. I have packed for vacations with less stuff than this. It took me about a half hour just to put on all the gear. Then I ran out of excuses to put this off. I had to run. I set off down the hill to meet my friend (B) at our work. The first two miles felt great (down hill). I was listening to “fame” and thinking “YES! I AM going to live forever!” I can do it! This carried me all the way to B.’s office. She greeted me with enthusiasm and we set off for the 6.5 miles she would accompany me for. I felt good.
Then we hit the first of what would be at least a dozen hills. To top it off, I don’t know right from left so I wasn’t 100% sure my directions were accurate. I was lost and running up hill. Not a good combination. But B. kept my spirits up with her jokes and motivation, her willingness to walk a couple of the steeper hills and her observation of the spectacular beauty around us. She was right. I was running by mansions and trees simply covered with snow. It was white from the ground to the sky. I wanted my camera. But hills are hills and my rear end and legs were burning.
Until we got to a glorious l-o-n-g down hill around mile 8. How could I be so tired at mile three and feel like I could run forever at mile 9? Downhills are pretty cool that way. But all good things come to an end. B. and I parted ways and I went to finish what should have been the last three on my own.
Repeating a section of the run B. and I just did, I turned into the hilly, mansion part of town and promptly got lost. Again. I had no idea how we found the road I needed to get home. I was lost. Sweaty. Cold. Feeling like everything below my hips was sure to fall off. My feet burned. Street signs were covered with snow. I kept running/walking trying to find my way. I passed the same house a second time and everything looked hopeless. I was going to be running until dark in a neighborhood that was only 2.9 square miles! Then, on the horizon, I saw the street I needed! Which began with a GIANT HILL! At least I was heading uphill towards home.
There were many more hills and many more desperate thoughts of “when will it end?” before I got to my hot shower. I ran 13 miles that day and up more hills than I could count. It was hard. Harder than even my freaking out self could have imagined. But I finished. I suppose that’s where the mental training comes in that everyone talks about. It’s not that you can’t finish, it’s convincing your brain that you can do it. It’s trying to figure out how to keep going. Keep training. Keep running. Keep looking for the giant hill that will lead you home. I am sure I will freak out again. I am sure I will have longer, harder runs. I am also sure that somehow I will find my way home at the end of them.
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