Longest run to date yesterday: 9 miles.
It was completely unfun.
I wish I had enjoyed it more. Or that I didn’t have to walk a WHOLE BUNCH during the last 3 miles. Or that when I was done I didn’t feel ill and sore all over.
But that’s not the case. I was miserable most of the time, and for no reason that I can pinpoint like in other runs that weren’t my best. There were hills, but they were all very doable hills that I’ve conquered over and over again. I didn’t eat a butt-load of terrible food that day. I wasn’t dehydrated or overtired or underprepared.
I just felt tired and weak. I got a few cramps in the final third of the run, and that certainly didn’t help. (I really need to try some of those core workouts from Runner’s World recommended by a commenter last week…)
When I got home, I took a shower and then a two-hour long nap. I wasn’t sleepy; the nap was accidental. The kind of nap that just happens after a period of laying in bed because you can’t force your body to move anymore and there’s nothing else to do but sleep.
What really worries me is not this one run, because – really – it’s just that: ONE run. It’s the next bunch of runs. I’m supposed to do ten miles with Friend #1 and one of her friends (the one I ran with at last year’s Turkey Trot) on Saturday. What if I can’t do it?
The week after that it’s 11. Then 12. Then the half marathon, which I really want to be able to complete without having to walk.
Am I being unrealistic? According to all sources, this is a totally reasonable goal. Maybe – for me – it’s not realistic. Maybe I need more time. Maybe I’ll simply never be a distance runner.
I don’t know…
Maybe this is just too ambitious of a goal for me right now. I’m not sure I can do it.
I don’t intend to give up based on one bad run. Or even 5. But man am I feeling more than a little discouraged.
Now accepting words of encouragement. Go.
