I just returned from a 5 mile tempo run. No, wait. That's untrue for two reasons.

1.  I've been back for well over an hour but have been eating Haagen-Dazs Mango Sorbet in the hopes that concentrated, flavored, frozen sugar water would cheer me up from a dismal run. But it sounds more hardcore if I insinuate I came in dripping from a run and sat straight down at the computer to write about it.
2. I cheated and only did four miles of the 5 mile run.

I've been wondering--between gulps of sorbet--why I cheated. I've decided it's because I'm bad at math.

Click to read more ...

My legs ache. 

I don't mind. It's the kind of ache that comes from using them.

I had some long, fast runs this week. On Thursday, Barefoot Josh was kind enough to agree to drive to Greensboro with me for a 10-mile tempo. (Side note: What kind of training plan takes you from a 4-mile tempo run one week to a 10-mile tempo the next? Those Furman people are sadists.) Our run turned out a little different than planned when, less than one mile in, I realized I'd locked my keys in my car. Luckily, Josh had his cell phone. Josh called his wife, who looked up the # for AAA, relayed the number to us, and we got a rep on the phone.

"I'll send someone out right away," said the rep.

Click to read more ...

It's time to come clean. I am dropping out of this Saturday's 20-mile Uwharrie Mountain Run. There was a chance the race was going to be cancelled due to inclement weather and I hoped this might help me save face, but no such luck. An e-mail from the race director came through last night with the subject line "THE RACE IS ON!!"

Here are my reasons for backing out:

• We already have snow accumulation on the ground. As I type this, more snow and freezing rain is falling. Uwharrie is a treacherous run during dry conditions. Running downhill on loose gravel covered in ice scares me. 
• I'm not ready. I have done minimal trail running and no hill work. 
• I need an attitude adjustment. Running the mountain requires a big dose of "bring it!" attitude which is missing from my mental make-up. 
• I want a friend. It's more fun to suffer and struggle through one of these things when you have a partner to push you. 

I'm disappointed in myself. Sitting out the race because of the weather is probably the smart call, but I know that I lucked out with that excuse. I would have run it if the weather had been clear, but I know I'm not ready and I'm just as happy to have an excuse to bail. 

What I'm looking at for Saturday instead is a 20-mile run on the treadmill. I'm hoping I can get to Greensboro to run with the group but we'll see what Mother Nature holds in store for us.

Meanwhile, it's absolutely stunning outside. A fresh inch of snow on the trees and rooftops and big, fat, flakes continue to fall. 

I haven't given up. Next year, Uwharrie, be warned.

I'm comin' for ya. 

On today's 20-mile run my running partner and I swung by our cars at mile 16. A few friends who had finished shorter runs were still there. 

"How many more?" they asked us.

"Four," we replied.

"How're you feeling?" they asked.

I shook my head and gulped water. "This is a really stupid sport," I answered. 

Forgive me. I lose my manners after a certain amount of tiredness sets in. Just ask the poor guy at the Richmond marathon two years ago. I was barely moving at a trot and just gave up and started walking around mile 18. I was tired, upset at missing my time goal and just in an overall foul mood, which must have showed on my face.

"Tough day?" he asked sympathetically. 

I looked at him and scowled. "I hate this %@$*-ing sport," I said. 

He quickly moved on.

I feel bad about it, now. But there really does come a point where I am just not fit to be around other human beings.

Today wasn't that bad although I was tired. VERY tired. The tired kicked in around mile 15 and didn't go away. But I wasn't upset about it. We'd held a fast, solid pace up to that point--much faster than the training called for--so I was willing to cut myself some slack.

And though it's difficult to explain, I really do love this sport. I especially love it when the heavy tiredness sets in. Even though my body is half-dead from exhaustion, I feel more alive than at any other point during my week.

Why? It's something to do with having to leave all the excuses behind and just buckle down and do the work. But there's a comfort in knowing I can do it. That I can push past that point where all I want to do is stop. 

I'm not sure, however, this skill serves me elsewhere in life. My running partner asked if my husband ran. He's just started, but I explained that Blair prefers workouts with a purpose. If you need a field cleared or a shed built, he's your man. I think he struggles with running because he's just... running.

I'm the opposite. I'll run all day long for no reason but ask me to pick up sticks from the yard and I'm like, "Huh! But it's hard. And I'm tired. And whine-whine-whine."

So much for that mental toughness.