Last Sunday morning I ran 23km. It went ok, if by "ok" you mean "for the last 12km it was brutal and I wanted to die or at least curl up into a ball and cry". Maaaaaate.
The morning started off ok (really ok, not "kill me now" ok); the alarm went off and I got up, I got out the door without waking anyone up and with everything I needed (and as the legendary Wes has pointed out, how simple is it to pack for a run as compared to a tri? Thermos, blister-tape, safety pins, gels and you're off!), and with enough time to stop at the ATM for cash and get a sensational park right near the start. It was a lovely morning and Princes Park was a picture, all charming families in the playgrounds and delightful dogs on the ovals. The lovely Mrs W was in attendance so we decided to set off together on the four-and-a-bit lap course, sticking to a 9:1 run:walk. Poor Mrs W had been having a rotten weekend and in my opinion was jolly gutsy to have shown up. I won't reveal any details, but teenagers suck! We spent the first couple of laps bitching about kids and weight and husbands and being slow and other tiresome things, and of course waving to other CR people as they flashed by.
This is clearly very early on as I am smiling and lifting at least one foot. Mrs W is to the right
Then Mrs W's knee got nasty and she shooed me off while she walked a bit. I continued with my 9:1 and gel schedule, around and around the park. I have to tell you, it got hard faster than it usually does. I don't usually mind skinnyfasts being twice as fast as I am - what would be the point? It's true whether I mind or not! - but today all the hateful voices were on the attack. Why do I bother? I hate this What's the point? I'm useless at this. Don't pat me or say things, you condescending fast bastards.
This is clearly very early on as I am smiling and lifting at least one foot. Mrs W is to the rightPlease note: I know these are my issues and completely divorced from reality. Every single CR I have met is a treasure and a fountain of encouragement. And as soon as I stop running I know this.
It hurt, too. It hurt a lot more than running even a pretty long way usually does. Don't start on me, you marathoners and ultrarunners - I know it's not far at all in the grand scheme of things, but Get A Grip! Running for nearly three hours Is Not Normal. Ask anyone.
But I digress. Back to my hard day cause this is all about me. My legs hurt, my hips hurt, my glutes hurt...and then there were the 'rises' (I know they weren't hills, but by crikey they felt like it by the fourth lap). I stuck grimly to 9:1. If the number on my watch had 0 at the end, I walked. If not, I ran. It was impossible to stay positive. It would have been irrational to stay positive! When I tried to tell myself don't worry, this is fine, the rational part of my brain replied what a lot of cr@p! It is NOT fine! What could I say to myself? How could I get my head around the unpleasantness of it all and keep going? I was hating everyone and everything - all the fast people, the charming volunteers at the water station with no water, and myself for my slow weak legs and every stupid decision that had let to every extra kilogram that I was lugging around this boring stupid course.
What could I do? How could I keep going?
I kept going by deciding it was okay. Okay is not fine. Okay is not comfortable. However, okay is bearable. Okay is calm.
My head became a wilderness, a desert of despair-avoidance. If I thought about how hard it was, I was lost. Songs saved me, signs saved me, beautiful winter trees saved me. The world was about pretending the f#$% f#$% f#$% I f#$%ing hate this just wasn't there. My existence was about staying calm and keeping on going. When I could, I thought this is okay. I can keep this up. Hold your form. Think about your breathing. This is okay. I can keep this up. While I was running I kept thinking, you'll remember this on marathon day. There will be times like this on marathon day and now you know you can deal with them. This is okay. I can keep this up.
And it was okay and I did keep it up.The hardest part was trudging through the finishing chute and seeing all my CR friends chatting and laughing and knowing that I had 23km on The Schedule all hail The mighty Schedule! and I'd only done 21. Oh, how I wanted to stop running and go over to them. But I didn't. I ran to the 1km mark and back again. Most people I knew had gone home but I'd done what I said I would, and that's what mattered.
Then I had a pancake and a cup of tea and walked back to escort the mighty Mrs W to the line. She was finishing that run No Matter What, goddammit, and huge huge credit to her.Then I went home and had a sleep on the couch. Bliss.
When I woke up I had a filthy head cold. Mystery solved. Meh.
More anon, often lapped but never beaten!
8 comments:
If it was easy, every bastard would do it. It's hard. That's why we do it.
Good girl, and go Mrs W, I want to be both of you when I grow up.
Emma
Well done! How many laps was that? Was it just PP or some of Royal Park as well? Doing multiple laps of the same course must be so hard!
my goodness that sounds like HELL! you did so well comrade :)
"often lapped, but never beaten"
I like that.
Well done!!
Great effort and great result! It's possible I may have been someone you secretly cursed as I went by in Tiger Boy's CR 'bus.'
Strangely enough, I have many of the same feelings about those Kenyan-looking dudes as they run past me. Some things are universal.
Love your writing.
Cheers, PB
I just read some interesting stuff in Tri magazine about finding the emotional payoff as to why we do this. That's the real motivator!!
Way to remain "unbeaten" :-)
They are hills. I have run up them and they fit all the criteria for hills. Nice work and you possess some amazing resilience to be able to duck off for another 2km just because the schedule said so. Brilliant Al!
omg, you make me laugh so hard! this is me, you are spying on my brain. This my brain during every single race! you're hilarious. I ADORE YOU!
Post a Comment