I clearly was not in the right frame of mind for last Friday’s 18-mile run, as I described in my pre-run post. I ended up getting out the door late and knew that I wouldn’t have time to squeeze in the full 18 miles before needing to pick up Max from school. That put me in an even worse mood, and I hit the streets primed for a bonk.
And bonk is what I did. Mentally more than anything…I just flat out stunk it up from Mile 1 to Mile 16.7, when I had to literally run into the garage and into my car to leave for Max’s school.
The following is a true and accurate depiction of my crybaby thoughts during Mile 1–Mile16.7, as I can best recall…
- Mile 1.5: Having trouble settling into my rhythm. My body is rejecting this challenge. Eighteen more miles on top of 18 in the past four days is too much.
- Mile 4: Why won’t this snow melt? I’m tired of running the same loops through the neighborhood. It just makes the run seem that much longer. I want to spread my route out, but I can’t because people won’t plow their f*&k#$g sidewalks.
- Mile 4.5: Great. One-fourth of the way there. It won’t stop snowing. I hate this place. Cars aren’t giving me enough room. I see a Buick. Buicks are always trouble. They’re either driven by old people or men who ogle and honk. Watch out, old man.
- Mile 6: Yippee. One-third of the way there. I pass a nice old lady shoveling her sidewalk and feel bad that I can’t offer to help. My playlist is not motivating me. Why am I doing this? My G2 is frothy. WTH? It tastes nasty.
- Mile 9: Why am I doing this to myself? Why do I want to join a club of batshit-crazy people? Am I some sort of masochist? Why is Sade playing? Who ever ran faster or harder to Sade? I’m an idiot. Halfway there, which means 9 more miles to go. Depressing.
- Mile 10: Great. The wind’s picked up. My wicked sweat is turning cold, and my muscles are stiffening up. My knees feel like watermelons. Pass the old lady shoveling again. Quit smiling at me, lady. I’m in no mood for pleasantries. I can’t recall ever wanting to do anything less than I want to be doing this right now.
- Miles 11-14: Here I take the time to examine my failings as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, granddaughter, friend and housekeeper. We’re talking major self-flagellation here. I reach no conclusions, other than that I would sell my soul for some Cinnabon.
- Mile 15: Pass the old lady again. Screw you, you old bag.
- Mile 16: BBQ. If I can just run until it’s time for pickup, then I will drive myself to Gates and get myself some BBQ. Forget the Cinnabon. I’m not sure if my legs are actually moving anymore, but I appear to be making forward progress.
- Mile 16.7: I stop running and can hardly walk. I want to plunge my legs into the nearest snowbank. I am so hacked off at myself for not leaving in time to finish the full 18 miles.
I picked Max up and dropped him at home to let his brother in from school. I told him I was going to get food and that I would be back. He asked me, “Aren’t you going to change first?” Hell no..there’s no time!
I drove to Gates and hobbled right up to the counter to order my beef on bun with fries, where I got hit on by some old perv. Seriously, who hits on a woman who’s just ran 17 miles and has the look of someone possessed? Totally gross.
While I ate, I reflected. What went wrong? I guess the first thing that came to my mind was simply that it was a big week…my first 35-mile week ever. It’s just a lot of miles to run, especially when you’re limited to the same neighborhood and you’re running solo. Is some burnout normal? I sure hope so.
I also knew that I hadn’t eaten all that great or healthy. Once you get to the 30+ miles per week range, it really is essential to watch your nutrition, and I hadn’t been the best all week. I have to do better.
I resolved to just put it behind me…after all, I almost reached my goal, and I did the run with a 10:13 average pace, which is perfectly fine. I need to quit being a whiner and just suck it up! I enjoyed my weekend off and ran my five miles yesterday with no pain, which is great, but also with a persistent sense of boredom, which is not so great.
I’m off for 8 goal-pace miles in a minute, then 5 more tomorrow plus 13 on Friday. I’m glad it’s a cutback week. My mental state clearly needs it!
Song that worked best on my run: Forrest Gump by Frank Ocean!
Song that tanked: Never the First Time by Sade (what was I thinking? Great song, but not good for running, even on a slow run.)
Total miles logged: 275.