So, my attempt at 10 miles after the 3rd shift thingy with the 34 degree weather ended up boiling down to only 3 miles. But not for physical reasons.
Instead, I found that I was too worried about losing my car, because I’d parked in a weird location at the forest where the marathon will be, and I just kept thinking, “I’ll NEVER find my car again, and waaaaahhh!!!!” So there.
It’s 3:41AM (ish) and I’m at work, doing third shift emergency stuff. Most people would pack it in when this is all done and go home, right? Not me.
My plan is for 10 miles or so (whatever the long loop is at Willowdale), and *then* I’ll go home. Running after an entire night without sleep will be another kind of endurance test. I wonder how my body will react.
Of all mags I currently read for inspiration and physical activity, Trail Runner definitely tops the list as the one that keeps me motivated. There are great tips, lots of stories about people I can relate to, and plenty of angles from which to approach things.
I had a KILLER run this morning. A beautiful 5.5 miles of my local trails, but with some twists. I did hill repeats. My goal was to purge Sunday’s disappointment by countering it with hard effort. I threw myself at those hills. I tried pounding myself against the hill over and over again, attempting to make it into a mountain. That said, I felt accomplished. It was a good run.
The rest of the run was my standard course, but I started later. Starting at 6:00AM instead of 4:50 made it so that I could see. What a difference.
Part of the reason I seemed so crabby after my race yesterday was that I’m starting to wonder about how fit I am for the upcoming November marathon.
First off, I haven’t been logging the miles. My time to run is morning, and as it’s getting darker and darker, I’m not getting to the trails as often. Running on the roads is a chore, so I’ve been somewhat sluggish in performing. But, as yesterday’s race taught me, I am no where near ready to haul all 26.2 miles based on hopes and intentions.
Okay, first off, I got lost. I got really lost. This is one of the top three things I hate in life. I HATE being lost. Worse, I was lost in some of the officially scariest parts of Massachusetts. Double-hate being lost in places where liquor stores and pawn shops outnumber other businesses four to one.
Then, I arrived with 3 minutes until the start of the race. Just enough time for a confused (but glad she’s there to help) woman to find my number, proceed to forget to hand it to me, and get embroiled in a conversation with some other volunteer who’s only marginally less confused. By the way, I seriously have to piss.
The plus to getting out on the street early is that I can actually get out when I want to run. The other plus is that it’s right there. The minuses are overwhelming. Sore body parts. Cars. Not nearly as much fun stuff to look at. A lack of spirituality to the surroundings.
And yet, I got another five miles in, after having stalled a bit due to the darkness in my super-early morning trail runs.
My password is nine characters log. To that end, I always hum (in my head) the first bars of Bruce Hornsby’s “The Way It Is.” EVERY time.
(I’m going to do one of those 100 things lists).