I feel kind of guilty when I tell people about my running: how far I've gone, my new speed records (which aren't much), my awesome new Garmin Forerunner that Sean got me for Christmas. I get so excited about it all and fail to remember that in general, people really don't care that much. Hence the need for a space to blab about my runs, how I felt during and after, what I eat--all the stuff that normal people really don't want to hear. Like, for example...
Today, I ran twelve miles. By myself. In the 77-degree Florida heat and oppressive humidity.
I RAN TWELVE MILES!! That's a lot of miles!! Especially without Sean (currently skiing in Michigan while I live out the last few days of my southern vacation), who is usually my sanity and motivation on long runs.
This week, I ran 22 miles. That's my greatest mileage yet. Next week the total mileage will be lower, but the end result will be greater: we're going for the full half-marathon length. And I. Can't. WAIT.
I've been thinking that I'm not really energizing enough before long runs (and I've never done long runs before the past two months, so I'm kind of unfamiliar with how it all works). So this morning, I had a bagel and a banana about 45 minutes before I left. I could totally tell a difference in my energy level as compared to last week's eleven-miler; I pushed through my usual six- or seven-mile wall and made it to about nine before I really wanted out. Of course, the last three miles were done at noontime with no shade on a flat and boring path, so that could have had something to do with it as well, but I could definitely feel that I was more energized in the beginning.
I also brought water on this run (first time I've done that) and boy, I would have died without it. Possibly literally died. I don't have a special belt or anything, so I just carried it in my hand and drank it all between four and eight miles. I have never been thirstier than when I arrived home after my last three miles in the blazing sun--my voice was almost a whisper, my throat was so parched. Ate some Saltines and drank a ton of water while icing my feet, as my arches have been acting up during long runs (probably should get some new shoes soon). My right hip hurt at points, but there's no residual pain. I got a lovely farmer's tan as well. Should probably have stretched more, as I've been pretty sore all day, but it's nothing too painful and I can tell it'll go away with more movement tomorrow. I took a bath after the run, and soaking my legs and feet in hot water was AMAZING. My left pinky toe also didn't hurt as much today, but I am developing a lovely callus on the tip of the toe and should probably cut down the nail soon so it doesn't snag and fall off completely (again).
I'm going to take it WAY easy this week and hopefully get a lot of recovery and rebuilding in before the long trek next Sunday. Also need to start thinking where to go for victory dinner...
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The History of Running.
Flashback: September 2009. I have a marvelous friend who is not only a genius physicist and astronomer, but also the most fit person I've ever met. She takes me to my first day of weightlifting at the gym. Twice (and sometimes three times) a week over the course of the fall semester, we meet in the weight room, usually the only women among throngs of sweaty men. We do twenty minutes of cardio before an hour or so of lifting.
January 2010. I'm overweight enough that I had to have my bridesmaid's dress for my best friend's wedding altered less than a week before the big day. I start hitting the gym four or five days a week, two days for lifting and the other days for cardio. I alternate between the bike and the stairstepper. In February, I graduate to the elliptical.
February 19, 2010. I finish thirty minutes on the elliptical, and something catches the corner of my eye. The treadmill. I haven't touched a treadmill since I worked my way up to running a single 10-minute mile in the fall of 2007 (and it took over a month to get that far). I stare at the treadmill for a few minutes and eventually decide to hop on, just to see if I can do it.
I run a mile in ten minutes. Without having to build up to it. I'm almost crying of happiness. Until this point, one mile is the farthest I've ever run.
In March, I work up to two miles. In mid-March, three miles. I stick with three miles for many, many months. I do a miraculous four miles with my boyfriend, Sean, one evening in late May--my longest run to date.
In June, I have surgery. I'm banned from running for two weeks. Two weeks later, I can barely run a block without pain. A month after surgery, I can do a slow mile. I run off and on through July and August.
October 2010. After not running for almost a month, I make a ridiculous decision to start training for a half-marathon. During my pre-training week, I can't do three miles at a stretch without slowing down to a walk. We go to Michigan to visit my marvelous friend and I'm staring at all of her race numbers that she has posted on her wall. I know I can do this. If she can do it, so can I.
I started my training in early October during one of the warmest autumns ever in Wisconsin. For the first two weeks, my long run was three miles, done with Sean by my side to motivate me. I struggled to get up to four miles in weeks three and four. On week five, with a long run of five miles, we got lost and ended up going almost six. I've increased one mile per week since then.
When I tell people that I've started running, they react very similarly by all stating that they could NEVER do that. And until I actually started to do it, I told myself the same thing. This blog is to prove to myself that I CAN do it. And not only CAN I do it, but I AM doing it. I'm living it, right now, and it feels AWESOME.
Just because I'm the slowest runner ever doesn't change the fact that I'm a runner.
January 2010. I'm overweight enough that I had to have my bridesmaid's dress for my best friend's wedding altered less than a week before the big day. I start hitting the gym four or five days a week, two days for lifting and the other days for cardio. I alternate between the bike and the stairstepper. In February, I graduate to the elliptical.
February 19, 2010. I finish thirty minutes on the elliptical, and something catches the corner of my eye. The treadmill. I haven't touched a treadmill since I worked my way up to running a single 10-minute mile in the fall of 2007 (and it took over a month to get that far). I stare at the treadmill for a few minutes and eventually decide to hop on, just to see if I can do it.
I run a mile in ten minutes. Without having to build up to it. I'm almost crying of happiness. Until this point, one mile is the farthest I've ever run.
In March, I work up to two miles. In mid-March, three miles. I stick with three miles for many, many months. I do a miraculous four miles with my boyfriend, Sean, one evening in late May--my longest run to date.
In June, I have surgery. I'm banned from running for two weeks. Two weeks later, I can barely run a block without pain. A month after surgery, I can do a slow mile. I run off and on through July and August.
October 2010. After not running for almost a month, I make a ridiculous decision to start training for a half-marathon. During my pre-training week, I can't do three miles at a stretch without slowing down to a walk. We go to Michigan to visit my marvelous friend and I'm staring at all of her race numbers that she has posted on her wall. I know I can do this. If she can do it, so can I.
I started my training in early October during one of the warmest autumns ever in Wisconsin. For the first two weeks, my long run was three miles, done with Sean by my side to motivate me. I struggled to get up to four miles in weeks three and four. On week five, with a long run of five miles, we got lost and ended up going almost six. I've increased one mile per week since then.
When I tell people that I've started running, they react very similarly by all stating that they could NEVER do that. And until I actually started to do it, I told myself the same thing. This blog is to prove to myself that I CAN do it. And not only CAN I do it, but I AM doing it. I'm living it, right now, and it feels AWESOME.
Just because I'm the slowest runner ever doesn't change the fact that I'm a runner.
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