Yesterday, I got a wild hair and decided to take an unscheduled run. It wasn't on the training schedule but I got into a huge fight with my husband and needed an outlet wanted to experience the beautiful day. So I took a two mile run around my neighborhood, admiring my favorite street where the sidewalks are made of old bricks. But here's what's amazing: The run was easy.
See how that word, easy, just flowed off my keyboard? Quite an improvement from past attempts to use the word. I never really got tired, and I truly enjoyed the run. That might be a first.
Then today came. My plan was to run seven miles. I knew it would be tough, especially since I planned a route that had a decent amount of hills. Which, let's be honest, is about the only way you can run a long run in Asheville. (Here's the route if you are interested. http://bit.ly/JZPdo Click "Show Elevation" to see the 466 foot ascent. And all you real runners out there, stop laughing at me. I get to have my hard hills!)
This was one of the hardest days I've had in a while. So vastly different from yesterday. My first mistake, one I make over and over, was starting out too fast in the beginning. My first mile was around 9 minutes...slow for many real runners, but fast for a new-ish runner who is lucky to break an 11 minute mile. It felt fun to run that "fast," however my brain seemed to forget that there were still six miles to run after that first one.
To make matters worse, the second mile was a teeny climb, the third mile a bit more of a climb, and the fourth mile rivaled Everest. (Ok, maybe I exaggerate. Just a little.) I didn't walk for the first 16 minutes, then I entered the 3:1 Run-Walk-Run ratio compliments of Jeff Galloway. (Silly me, thinking because yesterday was so easy, maybe I'd just run the full seven miles with no breaks. Clearly there was some mind-altering substance in my Luna Bar.)
As the hills got steeper, my legs went slower. My heart went faster. My lungs gasped deeper. The voice in my mind got louder. "STOP!," it cried. "For the love of everything sacred and right, STOP RUNNING!" "But my watch hasn't passed three minutes of time," my logical self countered. "Must. Press. On."
I could go on and on about how awful the run on those hills was, or about how fabulous mile four was in its beauty (see pic) and gradual downhill. But I have already done both of those things in previous posts. (Awful, Fabulous). Instead, I want to share something I did, that in hindsight, makes me SURE that Luna Bar had hallucinatory substances in it!
After the rolling, forested, beautiful downhill of mile four, mile five included entry into the city and another big hill. As I entered the city, with its noise, cars and buildings, I became aware of a strong, primal urge in me: THIRST. "Give me water. NOW!" Naively thinking the 70 degree morning would allow me to run for 75 minutes without water, I had not planned for water breaks. The hills had drained about 90% of the water in my body OUT in the form of sweat. I was dying.
I told myself I could make it. I only had two miles of running left. And then an additional mile walk to my house. Oh god. That's three miles to water. My body was screaming. I don't recall ever feeling that thirsty. (Might it have been dehydration from the inadvertent consumption of too much wine as my husband and I made up from the huge fight enjoyed the cool summer evening last night? Or the lack of sleep as I lie awake in bed for half the night? Or the drug-laced Luna Bar?) Whatever the reason, as I hit a main street, I frantically searched for a store that would have water. I even considered entering a church; then I looked at myself - shorts, sports bra, drenched, smelly. Not sure even God would have taken me in.
I kept running, wondering what to do, when poor Steve (as I would learn his name to be), make the mistake friendly gesture of waving at me. It was all I needed. I stopped my watch. I stopped my body. All pride gone in my body's demand for water, I walked up the lawn to the porch, where three men and a baby sat (for real). The following conversation took place:
Me: I am so sorry to bother you. But do you think there is any way I can get a drink of water?
Nice man next to Steve whose name I forgot: SURE!! (Runs inside to get water.)
Steve: Is that a wedding ring I see?
Me, puzzled: Yes. Why?
Steve: That just sounded like a really good pick up line: "Can I get a drink of water?" (smiles)
Laughing, I explain my situation. Seven miles. Thought I didn't need water. Might have underestimated the wine I drank. No, I don't want a half of a banana. But you are very sweet to offer.
I drink my water. I offer my gratitude. And, exhausted at 5.5 miles, I wonder how I will ever run 13.1 miles in September.
Then I realize, I don't have to worry about that right now. All I have to do is run 1.5 miles more. 13.1 will come, or it won't. Today, I just need to get home. Live in the moment. Laugh at yourself for asking a total stranger for water. And keep putting one foot in front of the other.
That I can do.
~~~Thoughts~~~
Have you ever done something in the moment that you look back on later and wonder how/why you did it?
Until next time, may you love your life today.
