I didn’t desert this blog for no reason.
You know how when your mom says if you don’t have anything nice to say, to not say anything at all?
I was just following her advice.
Because after Sunday’s long run, I’d just about hung up my sports bra and hobbled away from running. For good this time! I mean it!
I took some days off, though, to…um…cool off. Here’s what happened:
Sunday was my fourth double-digit run of my marathon training and I only made it 11 miles. So, I’ve done 10, 10, 10 and 11. And after I finished, I didn’t know if I could possibly do more than that. I was supposed to 12.
I couldn’t even do one more mile. On a treadmill!
The plan had been to break up the run with 6 on my regular gravelly trail and 6 on the treadmill since I’d had such a hard time the weekend before. Well, thanks to an unexpected visit from a friend I hadn’t seen in a while—insomnia—I got a late start Sunday morning.
By the time I was at 5.5, it was approaching 90 degrees, and since heat makes me want to lie down and wait for crows to peck me to death, I went home instead. I grabbed my favorite BCAA drink (which I’d stored in the fridge), got in the car and drove to the gym.
By the way, the gym is a half of a mile from my house. And I drove.
Then, I started the painful process of restarting to run. But it wasn’t my legs that hurt, it was my GD feet! They felt like pieces of glass that shattered with every step. That’s the only way I can think to describe it.
Somehow, I willed myself to 5.5 more miles and called it quits. I drove home with my tail between my legs, and when I got there I declared this whole marathon training thing to be dumb, stupid and I never want to do it again.
Which is a complete 180-degree turn from where I was two months ago when I thought I would be the next great ultra-runner (over the age of 38). I’d planned to kill the marathon, then crush a 50K the following month and then a half marathon the next day after that.
Haha! What a moron. Who was I kidding?
And here’s the other thing: Running over an hour does not help my body look or feel great. My jiggly stomach is all the evidence I need that my body gets STRESSED the hell out on long runs. I can literally feel the flood of cortisol washing through me.
I see those elite ultrarunners with their light and muscular bodies, and feel inspired. They look like they’re flying over the trail. It looks so fun.
I hate them.
So, I’ve had a few days to think on it.
First, I am not quitting this marathon. I’ve already done that once. I will see this thing through to the fiery end.
Although, I admit, I’m nervous about “finishing or else!” because I felt so great and had such a wonderful first marathon with Zoe. I am worried that this one will be just 26.2 miles of me mumbling the “f” word. Will it ruin the joyful memory of the first one?
Second, I think I need different shoes.
Here’s the deal. I have two pairs of Brooks that I run in: the Cascadias and the Adrenalines. I like Brooks, but…I have foot issues.
I did one double-digit run in the Cascadias on my gravel trail and my arches hurt bad. So, I did the next two in my Adrenalines. My hallux limitus toe hurt pretty bad, as did the bottoms of my feet from all the gravel.
That’s the reason I decided to split up my run Sunday…to save the bottoms of my feet. Well…it didn’t work. As I mentioned, they were as painful as ever.
So, maybe instead of a hydration vest, I should look at trying the Hokas.
Everyone’s got their opinion on these Franken-shoes, but from what I’ve read, they can be really helpful to someone like me who a) can barely bend her left big toe and b) runs on gravel all the time.
Maybe if my feet didn’t feel like they’d be beaten with a meat mallet for two hours then I wouldn’t have been so grumpy after my run on Sunday.
I don’t know. We’ll see. Cross your fingers for me. I’m supposed to do 13 miles this weekend.
If you don’t hear for me from a while, you can guess how it went.