Janet and I ran 20 miles today. Actually, 20.11 miles. (Ann Marie – the .11 part was for you. 🙂 )
It’s fair to say that we both felt substantially challenged. Substantially. But we had some things going for us to help us through:
1. we had each other
2. the weather was bee-u-tee-ful!
3. we had a pretty, quiet, route that had good water views during miles 8.5-11.5
4. we were determined to hit 20 miles
It’s a good we had those things in our favor because our bodies got a little sassy with the back-talk. Whining, complaining, and threats to shut down even though our brains were good for the full 20.
For example, my feet started in with a mild, “We’re hurting, please stop“. I replied, “I understand, but it’s mile 8 and you’ve got 12 more miles to hit the pavement. Hang in there. “
Janet is more conditioned to long mileage, so her body was a little more patient before lodging the first complaint, but somewhere around mile 11, Janet’s legs demanded attention and rest, but she said “NO” and kept going. We stopped at mile 12 to refill water, hoping that the 30 second stop would trick our bodies into having “rested” and get back into gear. In gear? Yes. But not with the get-it-done spirit we needed.
At around mile 15, Janet’s hip went from trying to get her attention to an arms-crossed-shouting-door-slamming demand to be heard. I could tell she was hurting since I usually run behind her and could see a small hitch in her giddyup, if you know what I mean. I asked if she was OK, and to my surprise, she said, “Not really. I’m going to walk.” Janet is a Power Ranger Runner – she pushes herself with tremendous determination- so if her hip was winning the showdown, I knew it must really be hurting her. We walked about 50 feet. I think in those moments, she had a solid, firm, conference with that hip of hers because she picked up the pace and we were running again.
Of course, the break gave my body the signal it needed to speak up. And my feet were back with a much louder, less gentle chorus of “CUT. IT. OUT. We hurt. Stop pounding us. STOP IT!” But, with only a few miles left, this was no time for me to get soft. “Shut up,” I said, “No more whining. Almost there.” Feet were not satisfied. “STOP!” they yelled. “I can’t hear you,” I taunted. But, I could hear my feet. My feet were killing me. I tried to tune out their relentless yelling at mile 18 by turning my mantra back on, “I am strong, I am ready, I am strong” but it hurt so much, that it came out more like, “I am – ow – I am – I – SHIT – I am STRONG – Damn. Damn. I am – I am – gasp – I am – I am strong – I – G*ddamn– I am strong” and so forth. But, the swearing did help my attitude in a weird way. It made me aggressive and it was just what I needed to keep moving through the 20 mile mark.
As for Janet – I don’t what kind of words she laid out on her hip, but it surrendered and supported her through to the 20 miles.
We reached the parking lot. Sat down. High-fived. We admired ourselves and each other for finishing.
Janet had 45 minutes before she had to report to work. She promptly put on compression socks and probably employed a bunch of other post-run care techniques that she has. I had to go home and shovel out the barn. Then, I sat in the tub with ice. Just so you know I’m not making that up, here are pictures to prove it:
So, the run was over, I’d iced, showered, put on clean clothes. I’d torched about 2,000 calories before 10 a.m., so I knew I needed to eat some serious food, but my body was NOT interested. Evidently, my body can hold a grudge, so the arguing was not over when the run was over. This time, it was my digestive system dialing in with some attitude. It seems that if you abuse every working part of your physical being by making it run for 3.5 hours, it would rather just be left alone for a good long sulk. I searched the cabinet for food that would wake up my hunger signals. “Waffle with peanut butter?,” I offered. “Don’t even,” my body replied. “Yogurt with cherry?,” I coaxed. “NO.” Okay, then, I thought. Fine. I won’t pursue. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll fill you up.
You know when my body decided to make up with me? 4:30 PM. And then, everything was fair game. I ate cookies while I made scrambled eggs. Soon after, I had to attend a work dinner and my hunger was full speed by the time we sat down at 6. For everyone at my table, I provided an astonishing display of consumption. If it was food, it went down the hatch and I was not bashful about seconds. I was eating with people who had never met me before but I was too hungry to be embarrassed or even explain or even really make much conversation. (Not my best professional showing, probably.)
We ran 20 miles and even if with our pains, we had negative splits for the middle miles, with an overall pace right where we had planned at the start. Pretty victorious feeling, I must say.
TEAM UPDATE: Margaret is laser focused on getting ready for this marathon and had a 15 miler planned for this morning. Margaret is a very strong athlete and maybe the only person I know who could endure surgery less than a month ago and head out for that kind of mileage by now. Pretty amazing. Janet, as you know, ran 20 miles today, but she ALSO ran 19.5 miles last weekend, never mind her training runs throughout the week. A BOSS. I’m not sure what Margaret’s plan is for next weekend, but Janet is running a 1/2 marathon. (Isn’t it crazy that the 13.1 miler is her cut-back distance? Damn.) I’m traveling this week, hoping to get in a few 4-5 mile runs and then a longer one on my own next weekend.