Right before it was time to go to bed I began to get anxious. And cranky. I wasn't sure why. I tried to read to get sleepy but it didn't work. I tried to sleep. I counted sheep. I read some more. The more I tried to sleep the tighter the knot in my stomach got, and it occasionally moved to my chest. I don't think I got more than a few minutes of sleep.
I am usually a little anxious the night before a long run with my training group. I'm a little uneasy around people I don't know and running is a personal thing with me. If I can get along with someone and carry on a conversation I don't mind talking and running, but I have my own pace and I like to keep it without worrying about keeping up or slowing down for someone else. So lately I have been pretty much by myself, even if I'm with a pace group.
I also get anxious the longer the runs get. Today I was supposed to run 9 miles. I have two weeks until the half marathon I've been training for. This will be my third half marathon, and I thought by this time I would be an old pro, but I think I feel even less confident this time than I did the very first time. I've been sick, I still have shin problems, and running slowly continues to really bug me.
Despite the fact that I had no sleep, I went out this morning determined to do 9 miles. We had to start at this elementary school again and there are a few really wicked hills that just cause me to stop and walk sometimes. They probably are not so wicked for someone who is a little more seasoned and training for some big race, like, I don't know, Boston? But for me, at the end of a long run, the hills just kill me. All week I was telling myself I would not let these last two miles psych me out. I'd mentally steel myself for them.
I did the 9 miles. Slowly. Painfully. My shins still hurt. I walked a few times. Stopped at all the water stops. I did all the things my learned and cute coach told me to do this morning as I left the house: count your steps when going up the hill to distract you, just accept the pain for what it is (training your legs), and just run and enjoy it.
I did all of these things and more. The run was about 20% physical and 80% mental. My legs were on autopilot, and protested the whole way. But I listened to my music player, sang out loud when I needed an extra boost, reminded myself that I was training, counted my steps, and just tried to relax. I also occasionally thought of my niece Emma, who is fortunately on the road to a slow and careful recovery, and that my shin pain and exhaustion paled in comparison to all of the things she has gone through. I took two Gus during the run so that I would continue to have energy. When I reached 8 miles, which was the least I was going to do before deciding to walk the rest of the way, I pumped my fist and triumphantly yelled "Yeah" out loud. One more mile and I would be done, and I had just cleared the worst of the hills. I picked up the pace and was able to finish the run.
My average pace was just under 12:00 minutes per mile, which was disappointing, but considering the lack of sleep, the bitter wind blowing in my face, and the demon hills, it wasn't so bad. One look at my training log made me feel better too. I still had the best pace yet for the number of miles during training, and in reading the notes, each time I hit 8 miles it was very hard for me. Eight miles seems to be a threshold number right now. After I get past it I'm ok, but getting through it is always rough.
And every time I do it, it amazes me how much of long distance running is mental. When I finished, my legs hurt like hell, and I was even more tired, but I was also mentally exhausted. It took all I had to convince my body to keep moving. My coach tells me it's the same, if not more so, with the marathon. He makes it look so easy!
Time to relax and replenish carbs. And maybe sip a glass of wine? I deserve it!
No comments:
Post a Comment