Hills. Lots of hills. Very slow. Lack of energy and motivation. Knee pain & ankle pain got bad right at 8 miles. Lungs were great. Stopped at house at 6.5 miles to go to the bathroom and get fresh water/snack, so mile 7 reflects longer time. Planned it this way to mimic the plan in Tahoe. Thinking it's a really great thing that Tahoe is mostly downhill. These hills today did me in.
1 - 12:12 (normal, average 1st mile)
2 - 13:00 (tired, slowing down) (found greenway I didn't know about and tried it - added even more hills - but not too bad)
3 - 15:48 (a lot of walking uphill)
4 - 14:23 (got into a groove)
5 - 14:09 (groove continued & improved)
6 - 15:31 (walked up hill at park with boys)
7 - 18:17 (stopped at house for 3 min)
8 - 13:35 (felt better)
9 - 18:36 (pain started getting bad and walked a lot)
10 - 14:51 (sheer determination to get home)
While the notes can give you a general picture of how the run went, they definitely don't tell the full story.
On mile 2 I was already thinking, "What was I thinking? I can barely go two miles and I'm already tired." By mile 3 I was ready to stop and go home. Granted, I'd stayed up way too late watching college football (Go Hokies!), but I was also fighting some sinus stuff and allergies. I pulled out my phone, which I normally don't carry on runs, but carried for this training run since I planned to carry it in Tahoe and I was trying to mimic race day as much as I could in every detail. I found myself on Facebook admitting that I was suffering from exhaustion and serious lack of motivation. My teammates and friends jumped right into action. I had texts, posts, messages and more all telling me to keep going. Those words of encouragement got me up the hill and pushed me to keep going.
As I got into the groove in miles 4 & 5, things were looking better. However, I knew I'd need some company or I wouldn't be motivated to get past mile 7. This was especially true because I knew the big hill at the park was coming up. I called home. Don sent the boys to meet me down at the park. They arrived and we headed up the hill. Walking. No one wanted to run. Myself included. We made it to the top and I told the boys I'd meet them back at the water fountain. They were going to walk down the hill the short way. I headed out at a run down the long stretch and around the park. I didn't use intervals for the long stretch and it felt great. I was pretty happy with that part of the run.
We met up at the water fountain and headed back up the hill towards our house. We took one side loop down a neighboring street and had some great conversations about Tahoe and our expectations and hopes for our races. We made it home and I went in for the planned pit stop. It was quick and exactly as I'd hoped. I headed back out solo and found myself getting quickly back into the rhythm of my intervals. I started feeling pain around mile 7, but was able to keep going. By mile 8, I was done, or so I thought. I considered just going back home, but then I refused. I was SO close to 10 miles for the first time in 4 years. I didn't want to just give up. I slowed to a walk. I reversed my intervals (30 seconds running, 2 1/2 minutes walking). I started staring at objects just ahead and saying to myself, "I can make it to that black mailbox. That's it. Then I'll just walk." I kept doing this and suddenly realized I was able to run more than I thought. The faces of the people I run for kept flooding my mind. I shed more than one tear as I prayed for each of them and the battles they are facing. My pain was nothing compared to what some of them are going through. I knew I could and would finish the 10 miles. I got back to the greenway area and knew I was just 3/4 of a mile from accomplishing the impossible. It was in that moment I determined to finish running intervals and in that exact moment that I realized I really could run the half in Tahoe. The full reality set in for the first time: I was really going to do this. I was going to run a half-marathon again. In my favorite place, with and for some of my favorite people. Then the emotions hit. I tried to swallow them back and keep them at bay, knowing I'd never be able to run if I started crying again. So I kept looking at the miles. Checking the time. Praying for my friends.
I rounded the last corner and couldn't hold it back anymore. The tears just flowed. I don't think I could explain them if I tried. I called a teammate and close friend and simply said, "10 mile training run. I did it." That's all I could get out before the tears made it impossible to speak. The reason I'd called this particular teammate is because I knew they'd get it. They'd been there through every diagnosis. Every attempt to fight it. Every setback. Every doubt and fear. Every finish line along the way. They knew the impact of those words. They knew what those 10 miles had cost me - and what they'd given me. There was no one on the planet I'd have rather shared that moment with. I realized, though, they weren't the only one who had been there. So many people have come by my side through various stages of this battle. Many had come for short times and then gone. Others stayed longer. But all had made an impact. I wanted to share this moment with them too - but I didn't know how. I'm still working on figuring that one out.
One of my coworkers texted me about something to do with school on Monday - and she asked if she'd caught me at a bad time. I replied with, "No. I was just torturing myself by running 10 miles." I joked about it. I smiled. I laughed. I shrugged it off. I downplayed it. All week. But that was to hide the emotions. The fears and doubts coupled with the intense excitement and anticipation. I just didn't think I could put into words what I was really feeling or thinking - so it was easier to blow it off when people asked about it or commented on it. I'm not sure what to say other than I just did what I was told I could never do again - and that - that was an amazing feeling.
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