The day the music died

When I got home from the slowest run EVER yesterday, the Spousal Unit was standing in the driveway colluding with the neighbour about the insane secret shed project they think I don't know about. They looked a bit surprised when I lurched past them, mumbling shoot me now, just shoot me now............ then J told the neighbour I'd just run 30k and he looked even more surprised. I only regained the power of coherent speech after I'd got outside a pot of tea and a baked-bean jaffle.
Oh. My. Goodness. It was HAAAAAAAAAARRRRDDDD. It started out hard and slow and went downhill from there. The alarm went off at 4.50am - yes, gentle reader, four fifty ay em - that's not stupid o'clock, that's ten to OMFG o'clock. The reason for this ridiculousness was that J had to leave for work at 10.30 and I didn't want to be cutting things too fine. Scoffed half a vegemite roll and a cuppa and hurled myself out the door before I thought better of it. That's a lie. I thought better of it the whole way. You know that feeling where you can't get your shoe tied properly so your foot slides around? No? Oh well. I just could not get it right... then my knee started hurting.... oh it was a world-class whinge fest out there, it surely was. It wasn't until about 11km in that it struck me - tightening the lacing at the bottom of my shoe might be more effective in keeping my forefoot still than ineffectually fiddling with the laces at the top. Can anyone say DOH? It sounds so minor, but meant that I never got into any kind of rhythm; the first hour and a half is usually the bit of these long runs that isn't quite so rotten, and yesterday it was just niggly and stupid the whole way. And then...the sun had come up and it was becoming quite pleasant yes I know I know, being out running for 90 minutes before sunrise is just wrong wrong wrong, and if you think it isn't well here's a *raspberry* and you can keep your perky virtuousness to yourself THANKYOU and I was trundling up the third-last hill of course I know exactly how many hills there are, waddya think I am, not anal-retentive? when
*cue sinister music*
my music died!
It was the last straw. My legs hurt all the way. I forgot to eat one of my scheduled gels ALL HAIL THE MIGHTY NUTRITION PLAN, and my mood plummeted with my blood sugar. I tripped really heavily and bruised my knee - and let me tell you, endorphins work really well whether they're provided by pleasure or shock, it's just when they wear off that the effects are different- and I was all alone with my own thoughts! Nooooooooo!
If I ran through the permission-to-sook checklist once I ran through it a dozen times. Any joint pain? Sharp muscular pain? Any wheezing or weird sweaty dizziness? Are you soaking wet and freezing? No? Then, LBTEPA my friend, it's not so bad really. It's okay. You can keep going. Have another little sip of HTFU and run for four more minutes (my primary goal is to stay uninjured so I'm using a 4:1 run:walk interval to get the Ks on my legs).
I have to say, though, in some ways it was a nice change to go without music. It was quite peaceful. I might do it again one day. But there's one thing I do know - because I thought it many many times on that pathetic crawl around the northern suburbs - if the Running Gods send me one like this on marathon day, I'll still make it. I can slide down into self-doubt and utter hatred of my utter lack of ability, and trip over things and wreck my tights (luckily my horrid old tights that were going into the op-shop box anyway, not my nice new tights. That would really have upset me. And Noddie was able to use her favourite new words, subdural haematoma and contusion! So it's all good! But I digress) and pick myself up again and keep on going. Yes I can. And yes I will.
And by crikey that pot of tea and baked-bean jaffle were the best I've ever had.More anon, earl grey fanciers!