New Running Milestone

Well, I possibly indulged in a few more long run don't's today, but in a much more inspiring fashion than last time. The don't I really trampled was that old gem about not pushing it too far beyond your training schedule. But sometimes you just have to add a little extra, and after the dissapointing delay on Monday, I think I needed a boost. My long run was supposed to be 11 miles today, but I decided about 8 miles in that this was the closest I've ever been to a half marathon distance and today was definitely the day to go for it. So I did.

It hurt! Blisters formed and popped. And although my knees and ankles actually felt great (staying off concrete and sticking with swimming for x-training is the way to go), my body started feeling it in that last mile. I was unfamiliar enough with the trail that the final half mile was completely disorienting - don't forget discombobulating and discouraging - as hope after hope for the end was dashed by an endless half mile of trail. Every hill or turn kept not being the last one; every step, those blisters chafed further against drenched socks. Every time I realized that - once again! - the hill I'd topped was not the ultimate hill, a little whimper and/or a largeish sob emerged. I nearly pissed myself when I finally saw the end of the trail - well, really, I couldn't say I actually didn't, since I was so covered in sweat, I wouldn't necessarily have noticed (and you're welcome for that image - I'll take that image and raise you an even worse one).

Anyways, I'm terribly impressed by people who run marathons in a way I could not previously appreciate. I've always been impressed in the abstract, but there's something about sludging out 13 miles and then realizing that's "the good/easy half of a marathon" that takes my breath away a little more than the running already had (incidentally I find myself singing along to my mp3 player sometimes - does this pass the talk-but-can't-sing test if it's shouting along to rap and or the hook of a pop song? And how scary is it for the people walking their dogs to hear "I wanna a lady in the street but a freak in da bed" screamed out over the sound of pounding feet).

Here I share my lovely and sexy post-run feet with you all:
Special Challenge: Can you find the happy face that I see in this next photo or was I just hallucinating?


The blisters don't really show display all their gorey glory above, but trust me, they're really beautiful and as colorful as your average candy cane. And that is dirt, not leg hair or some weird tribal design on my legs.

But it was an altogether magical day: crisply autumnal weather, a comfortable trail, and entirely functioning accessories! I think it's a good sign of something when gels start to taste good - by something, I mean an exponenetial acceleration of my inevitable descent into madness, of course. I had this incredible mocha flavored Clif Gel. Not just acceptable but delicious in that "I would follow up a fancy meal with it" kind of way. Later, I also had a vanilla Power Bar brand gel that tasted almost identical to that fake maple syrup that might gush from the head of an eerily anthropomorphic glass jar on a leisurely Sunday afternoon invovling the words "chocolate chips" and "eggos". Not ordinarily something I love, but having delved that far into my glycerin reserves changes things: the sweetness made my taste buds dance and my muscles zip. Even more exciting - albeit less shocking, as tasty gu is pretty hard to match in pure shock value - my water belt thingy turns out to be amazing! I figured it would annoy the hell out of me to have extra weight and things jostling about my body; instead, I barely noticed it. The strap didn't loosen or ride up at all, so everything stayed put at my core, and the bottles clipped on and off with a minimum of struggles.

I guess the rest of my day will now be devoted to eating in the hopes of regaining some mental faculties, as I'm pretty officially tapped at the moment. Maybe sleeping as well! I am so amazed there are people who run ultramarathons... they probably do carry bottles of Mrs. Butterworth's. When I think of marathon and ultra-marathoners I feel absurd at just how much I felt these measly thirteen miles. It's inconceivable the distances and speeds that they run. But I just have to keep repeating to myself that less than a year ago THREE miles felt this hard. All in good time.