This weekend’s training run was literally the worst run of my life. And I’ve been on some pretty bad runs. I’ve run out of water, I’ve gotten caught in the rain, I’ve had IT band pain. But nothing compares to Saturday’s run.
I woke up Saturday morning No, wait, let’s back up. Friday afternoon I started getting a scratchy throat. I sucked on a few cough drops to make it through the day of first grade. That night I taught a class at Kosama and then we headed over to B’s parents’ house for a game night with his family. Throughout the evening, and I swear I don’t know how it happened, I ended up having three generous glasses of wine. I also ended up snacking on quite a few peanut M&M’s. (Hey, they were calling to me.) It’s just a training run, I thought to myself.
Saturday morning, I woke up with a pretty sore throat, but other than that I didn’t feel too bad. I ate some egg white oatmeal, then lazed around for a full two hours before heading out for my 14 mile run.
Miles 1 through 7 were not really too bad. They actually went by quickly. I was enjoying my audiobook (Dead Until Dark – the first in the Sookie Stackhouse series), and feeling pretty good. I even took this picture around mile 5:
It was right after that halfway mark that I began to get a little bit of stomach uneasiness. I thought it was all the water and coffee I’d had that morning, so I stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom. That was at about mile 9.
Well, after that… I barely ever got going again.
The last five miles made up the most excruciating hour of my life. Seriously, though… check out these splits:
I was going along just fine (about a 9:00/mile pace) until my 10th mile. SIXTEEN TWENTY-SEVEN. This is due to the fact that about ten minutes were spent dragging my feet along at a snail’s pace trying to decide if I was going to toss my cookies and break my vomit-free since ’06 streak. (That’s a whole other topic of conversation…) I considered calling B to come pick me up, but my reasoning was that by the time I called him, explained where I was, and waited for him to come get me, I could be most of the way home. Besides that, I have a bit of a
competitive streak perfectionist streak in me, and I really wanted to finish those 14 miles. I was coughing up mucus like nobody’s business (you wanted to know that, right?!) Mile ten was rough. Mile 11 was rough. By mile 12 I was pretty sure I could make it home. I walked when I needed to. I drank a lot of water. And I made it home… somehow.
When I got in the door, this is what happened. Immediately.
“I think I’m gonna puke.”
“That was the worst run ever.”
“What a horrible decision.”
“Take my picture for my blog.”
Those are the four things that came out of my mouth.
I literally could not even peel myself off the carpet enough to stretch or foam roll. B brought me water, and watched as I laid on our brand new carpet in agony. (I think he was worried I really was going to puke and leave a stain in the middle of our gorgeous family room.)
I spent the rest of the day in my pajamas on the couch. I was running a fever and my body ached all over. Whatever slight tickle I had in my throat had become (not surprisingly) the full-fledged flu due to my own inability to let a training run slide.
(See? I told you I don’t have this balance thing down yet.)
My point, though, is not that running sucks. Really. The thing is, even though this horrible monstrosity of a workout occurred just 48 hours ago, I’m already looking forward to next weekend’s training run. I’m at the point now where every long run will be my furthest run ever. And I’m excited to meet the 15 mile milestone (or mile marker…. hahaha). Yes, Saturday’s run sucked. Big time. But I already have a plan of attack for the next run, which will be on Sunday.
- I will not drink the night before (should be easy, because I have a baby-sitting job!).
- I will eat a lighter breakfast (back to PB2 on an english muffin with a banana, I’m thinkin’!).
- If I’m sick, I will not run (I don’t expect to be sick by next weekend, I’m just sayin’ that I’ve learned).
I know that run will be marvelous. And I need it after having such a disappointing time this weekend. A relationship with running is just like any other relationship. You need to experience the bad times in order to truly enjoy and marvel at the fabulous times.
One more comment, and then I’m done, I swear. (I’m over 800 words already. Oops.) It’s kind of like our new house. Our “new” house was built in 1953. It has clay pipes. There has been a drought. The house was un-lived in for six months (or more) before we moved in. Seen anything in the news lately that’s ringing a bell??? Yup, we had roots in our pipes. Like, majorly. And this lovely house with its refurbished family room, kitchen, bathrooms, it’s huge backyard and the home to our beautiful new couch had suddenly turned on us. I felt like I couldn’t trust the house any more. How dare it violate our relationship by spewing water all over our basement floor over and over again?
I’m happy to say (and I’m knocking on wood) that we’re now going on three weeks back-up free. And my love affair with the house is reunited. I love sitting here at my kitchen table, having cooked dinner on my stove with food from my fridge looking at my piano and hearing the sound of my dryer running in the basement. It’s because we had that terrible week of plumber’s visits and bills that I’m now able to appreciate the small things.
So, you can bet that I will keep Saturday’s run close to my heart. I will hold it with me through every glorious step of my next several, perfect runs. But, in the meantime, I’m taking a couple days off to kick this flu in the rear.