Running: Not Really A Stupid Sport

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.

A Really Good Run

Finally! A run I can be proud of. Conditions were perfect yesterday for a long run - 40 degrees, overcast, no wind. For all that, I still wasn't looking forward to my designated 17 miles. Mainly because I knew I'd be doing most of them alone. Poor lonely runner...

I showed up at the tennis courts, the popular starting point in Greensboro for most runners as it has a huge parking lot and leads directly to the Greenway. I ran a quick 3 miles before the formal Blueliner takeoff time of 7:30. Then I ran four miles out with the group. The majority of the group turns back at that point, but I was lucky enough to bump into a runner I'd seen before, but didn't really know. Dave overheard me say I was running 17 and he volunteered that he was going 18 and, like me, had already started the day off with an early 3 miles. Better yet, we ran an identical pace. WHAT A GIFT. The group turned back and Dave I carried on, running together for another hour and a half and chatting along the way. 

Time passes much faster for me when I'm with another runner, even if we're not talking. It's the steady beat of our feet hitting the pavement, listening to our rhythmic breathing, and knowing that even through I'm tired I can carry on a bit further, because the person running alongside me expects me to. 

During the first 4 miles of the group run, Thad, Lisa and me were talking about how, in general, most runners are really good people. If you want to get to know someone, run 15 miles with them. Hard exercise breaks down barriers and you get a quick sense if someone has a sense of humor, is driven, what motivates them, are they a whiner, are they generous... The joke is that around mile 10, everyone starts spilling their relationship and personal and work problems. You can't help it. It's something in the sweat...

So today's blog is a thank-you to Dave, for making Saturday's long run seem so very short indeed. And we pushed each other. Both of our training schedules called for a 9:20 pace but we completed our run with an average per mile pace of 8:50. Sweet.

Dena 

You Know It's Too Cold To Run When...

I'm trotting along on the Greenway this past Saturday, bundled up in running tights, 2 shirts, a jacket, a headband (with ear warmers), and gloves against the 24 degree weather. Around mile 7 or 8, I feel something slapping against the right side of my head with every step. I reach up with a gloved hand and grab what feels like a large twig stuck in my hair. Lovely. Wonder how long I've been running along with that little treat protruding from my skull. You just know all the other runners are laughing at me. 

I tug at it, but the twig refuses to come out. I slip my hand out of my glove in order to get a better grip. I reach up, grab my hair... and realize it's not a twig. Instead, it's a big honkin' wad of ICE.

Yes, that's right - ICE. Like the stuff that comes out of the freezer? It's on my head. In fact, it's all over my head. Running my hand along my hairline at the nape of my neck, it feels like I'm rockin' an icicle-dreadlock look. The rest of my head? Crunchy. Apparently sweat and below freezing temperatures do not mix. 

My new treadmill is being delivered tomorrow. Not a minute too soon, if you ask me. I am officially OVER this outdoor running thing. See you in the spring.