I slugged through a 10 miler this weekend. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fast and it made me hate that I hadn’t run that distance in over a year. I miss the days of a 10 miler being normal. I won’t call it easy, but I could set out on the weekend and run 10 miles and know I wasn’t going to die. I took this for granted a few years ago. I assumed it would last. I thought running 10 miles would stay a normal part of my life. It didn’t for any number of reason. Then Saturday happened; I had grand plans of getting up early and getting it done with. Well, Mother Nature, the bitch that she is, had other intentions and there were a storm, including lightning and high winds and all the not fun stuff, so I couldn’t go early. Around 7:45 texted me with “are you more had core than me?” My response was something along the lines of “nope, I’m in bed watching Netflix.” We texted back and forth for a while stalking the weather. We had plans that day and getting the 10 miles done were part of them. I kept stalking the weather and finally decided to just go. I didn’t want to have to run Sunday and the weather looked not terrible.
I ran 8 hilly, hot, humid miles the week before so figured this had to be better. This thought process proved to be mostly true. The humidity dropped thanks to the storm and there was actually a lake breeze! I was slower than I wanted, but reminded myself speed didn’t matter on this run and let that go. I kept moving forward. Thankfully my route includes three places to refill my handheld if needed and a lot of shade. Not enough shade though; I am rocking a nice racer back tan line. The miles really weren’t too bad until the last one. If this had been a 9 mile run it would have been great. That last mile was miserable and horrible and I hated everything about it. I thought about quitting and asking my parents to drive me home (they live a mile from my house). I thought about just walking, but that would take longer so I sucked it up and made it home. And promptly laid on the floor on my yoga mat for 45 minutes to stop sweating/not move. I thankfully recovered pretty well so that was nice. Recovery was assisted by a lovely afternoon at the local beer garden, dinner on the grill/breaking in my new patio, and a lazy day by the pool on Sunday.
I finally know I can do the Madison Mini and finish without wanting to die. I have another 10 miler next weekend and another chance to feel better out there. I have modest goals for the half next month. It’s really to see where I’m at and what I can do. Plus I get to run a beautiful course in Madison. Race day is 33 days and counting.