I had every intention of coming home after Saturday's run and writing all about it—especially since I was blogging in my head during my run. It entertains me to think of what I will write about later... but most of the time when I get back home I just want to lie on the couch and veg out to the tv. :) Some of the experience has blurred, but the basics are still ingrained in my mind...
5:28 am: I wake up, go to the bathroom, and lie back down in bed even though I'm unusually pretty awake.
6:00 am: My alarm goes off, time to get ready to drive to Sterling to run with the TNT group. I turn it off and lie down again, even though I'm still pretty awake.
6:28 am: Andy says,"it's almost 6:30." and I reply, "I know. I don't feel like driving to Sterling." I am wishy washy for about 15 minutes until I decide that it's too late to make it in time and that I will run by myself.
7:00 am: I get out of bed, and begin getting ready for the run. I haven't been up this early on a Saturday in I don't know how long. I am reminded of getting up for swim practice on summer mornings when I was in middle and high school, and how much I hated getting up and getting in the water when it was so cold. (70 degree water is pretty chilly.)
7:20 am: I'm on the internet, looking at maps of the W&OD trail, with Andy looking over my shoulder advising me on the best place to go run.
7:45 am: Andy leaves to go to work. I'm slowly getting everything ready. Yes still.
8:30 am: I finally leave the house to go to Falls Church and hop on the trail.
9:05 am: I am on the trail! Walking at first to warm up, then running. I am wearing my Camelbak since Thursday's run was decent with it on. I didn't consider the fact that 8 miles is a lot farther than 3 miles when you're wearing a backpack.
9:15 am: There are lots of cyclists on the trail, and they are kind of rude. Not many of them announce their presence and so they just zoom around me without warning. I am being very careful to look behind me first if I am going to go around a walker.
9:30 am: My legs already hurt. Shin splints again. I've only been around 2 miles.
9:37 am: I see a woman walking a ferret on a leash. So weird.
9:45 am: I've been 3 miles, with lots of stops along the way to try and stretch my legs. I sit down and call Andy for some advice. I know he will give it to me straight.
I say, "I've been 3 miles, and I can't decide if I should go the 4th mile, because then I have 4 more to do. It's not a matter of whether or not I can make it--I know that I can keep going another mile. But my legs are killing me and I'm not sure if I should keep running on the shin splints. What do you think?"
He says, "Well, you could turn back now, and if you feel like it's OK, you can go a mile the other direction on the trail and then come back to the car." Genius.
9:52 am: After some more stretching, I'm headed back in the other direction. Every walker I pass makes me feel great. Every person who passes me while I'm walking makes me feel terrible. Such a roller coaster of achievement/failure feelings!
10:05 am: I've only been on the trail for an hour, but it feels like an eternity. I'm about 1/3 of the way back to the car, but time is crawling by. The Camelbak isn't heavy, but it distracts me. I also think that it makes me lean forward more, which is not good for the leg issue. It might be time to buy one of those ridiculous looking belt things with the little water bottles on the sides. Ugh.
10:15 am: I pass the third person wearing a Camelbak while running, but they are all the little ones with nothing but the water pouch. Mine has room for storage, and although I don't have much in it, I think it's just distracting to me having it there.
10:20 am: Less than a mile to go, and it's very hard to keep running. I take a long walk break, about 5 minutes, and I'm beginning to realize that I will probably be walking a lot of this marathon. But it doesn't matter; I just have to finish. I can accomplish the same thing by walking as I can by running.
10:35 am: Back at the car! My mind is telling me to put the Camelbak in the car and to keep going for a mile in the other direction, but my body is telling me to just get in the car and sit down. My legs are throbbing. I wish for the shin splints to go away so that I can keep running, because I am getting better with the endurance and as much as I hate the running, I like the running.
10:45 am: I finally start the car after taking my time getting my shoes and socks off and drinking some water.
11:15 am: I'm back at home, wishing already that I had at least walked the extra 2 miles. This is the first mileage run that I have come up short. It's very discouraging. I briefly consider not even writing about it here, and then decide that it won't help me any to leave out the bad runs.
12:00 pm: Andy is home from work, and we eat pizza from the freezer. Then we spend hours watching reruns of Mythbusters, napping, and just enjoying being lazy. I haven't had such a lazy day in a really long time, and it feels great to know that I at least left the house and got some excercise this morning.
Looking back, I really do wish that I had walked the extra 2 miles. I might be walking a lot more of the marathon than I thought, and I need to work on accepting that. (I wasn't planning on running the WHOLE thing anyway, but I was hoping to run maybe half?) I'm not sorry that I missed the group run though; I am beginning to realize that, as much as I want company, I don't want to feel pressured by someone else's pace or expectations. When I need to stop and walk, I need to stop and walk. I don't want someone telling me to keep going, because I know when I need a walk break. Plus, I have all of you reading this so I know I can't quit. And I told my grandma I was doing it for her, and that's the ultimate motivator. :)
So now I need to recover from the shin splints, AGAIN. I've been told that running by leaning forward causes extra stress on that part of the legs, so the Camelbak may just exacerbate that. We'll see.
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