It was bound to happen at some point, and I should probably be glad to get it out of the way now, but this past Saturday's run was bad. How bad you ask? A little over 10 instead of 12 bad. A 11 minute plus pace instead of a 10 minute pace bad. A had to walk part of it bad. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
It all started Christmas eve. The kids were excited. Trina woke up at 12:30am. Luckly Nana was able to get her back off to dreamland. Then it was Zander at 3:30am. He too could be convinced that sleep was a good idea. But his waking up woke up Katrina, who took over my side of the bed, which sent me packing to her bed. Needless to say, we were up early. The point? Night 1 of bad sleep.
Christmas was a terrific day. We opened presents with the kids in the morning. Enjoyed some breakfast. Hosted the family for lunch, and then opened more presents with them. Needless to say, an exhausting day. The entire house was in bed by 8:30. Which would normally make for a great night's sleep. And sleep well I did. Until 4:30. So by mid-day I was tired and starting to not feel well. By Friday night it was the cold sweats and early to bed again.
Hello Saturday Morning! I woke up feeling with a head like a cement block. Isn't that what the Claritan is for? So I started treating it like any normal Saturday morning. Coffee, breakfast, newspaper, check. I put my running bag together and got ready to go. But I wasn't feeling 100% and told Karen I was thinking about skipping the run and doing it on Sunday instead, but was afraid that I wouldn't get it in. Her response was right to the point, " you mean you're afraid that if you don't run today you won't ever run again?". Yes! I didn't say this obession makes sense.
So now you have the back story. The run was suppose to be 12 miles. I knew it was going to be a fight to complete, so I tried to start out slow. I usually don't hit my grove until mile 4, so I wasn't overly concerned at the mile 3 waterstop when I still felt dead on my legs. But she. I hit mile 5 I knew. I knew 12 miles were not going to be mine that day. I knew that it was time to turn it around. I went out with a low tank and started back on empty. The way back was so bad that I walked part of it and couldn't even run all of the way up the hill to One Beacon Street. The lone highlight I can think of was seeing an Irish Setter. I was so disgusted that I didn't even bother stretching. You can review the terrible run following the link below.
FitCorp Training Run #4
Lessons learned: listen to my body, cut myself a break, bad days happen, and stretch no matter what.
The good news is this coming Saturday is the Newton Hills. Time for some redemption!
Thank you to Carlo Severo, John Meade, Margaret Moran (who will hopefully also be at the marathon), Dave Santino (Marathon 20??), Karen, Mary Buonanno (My smile at the marathon mile 10 water stop), Dave Magliozzi, and Catherine Corliss for supporting me and the Eaton-Peabody Lab since my last post.
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1 comment:
Bill,
First, I hope you feel better. I had to laugh when I read this; there is a psycho mentality that runners have when sick. My husband has called me psycho for running when near death. I have finally learned to LISTEN to the body.
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