Rock Cot

I love running! Period.  But, even for this lover of the sport, I hate some of the processes to achieve it. I guess it’s kind of like writing. The birthing of a piece is great, yet the process to get there is grueling and it isn’t all glory.

Each weekend for the next 6 months I’m dedicating my Saturday mornings to a long run of a minimum of 10 miles. Yep -10 miles. Count them – 1 to 10. Ha! Relax; I know it’s a lot. But, it doesn’t feel like a lot when you work up to it.  I ran all summer in the throes of heat filled days. I did long runs on the weekend to prepare for the NY Half that we weren’t able to run. I amped up my mileage during August to include 6 miles 3x a week versus 3.5.  And to compliment that, I started doing a longer run on the weekends of nearly 7 miles so I feel like that 10 mile goal is on schedule.

This weekend was the first 10 mile run of the pre-training marathon season. I was actually excited to run it, how hard could it be after having run 4 marathons?  How about actually hard?  See, just because you’ve done something once doesn’t mean that it’s always easy. And, when it comes to running, each time you have to warm-up, break your sweat, endure the total body pain from exerting energy in a sustained measure, occasional and sporadic cramps and the overwhelming and often momentary feeling of just wanting to stop needed to run consistently.

Yesterday, it was 93% humidity. Thankfully, today, the morning after was considerably drier;  the breeze  nice and refreshing. However, there was still humidity in the air. Don’t think that all of the 93% went away.  Yet, I’ve learned  to count the small blessings of elements like: wind, a hidden sun, and a cloudy day – all factors that can positively affect a run. Thus, I was grateful that Hanna rained us out. But, the task of a ten mile run remained and dominated my thoughts yesterday.  That’s where running becomes a process that I began to detest. I get so anal about my runs sometimes. I have all these little quirks like, I have to get out before the sun starts shining, I like to start running before 6 a.m. because I feel like the air is quite cooler and my body temperature doesn’t feel so hot once it rises, I like to run a loop before the trail becomes too crowded.  All these little things I have no absolute control over but area string of silent demands I have every day I have to run.  I must sound like a running psycho, hun?

Well, psycho or not, I’ll show how missing one of these can affect me. I must preface this by saying that I do believe running is all mental. So, even I, – the so-called champ by friends and family – have moments when I totally lose it and want to be anything but a marathon runner.  So, the story continues.

First, my bedroom is conducive to sleep. Now that the mornings are getting darker, I feel like I’m sleeping in a dark castle sometimes. I don’t mind because it makes for a comfy environment of sleep.  But this morning, I didn’t hear my alarm nor my running partners text which is like a backup if my internal clock doesn’t rouse me. When I finally turned over, it was 5:58.Yep! So I was late. I was like dang, I’m late on the morning for a long run, not cool… not cool. I checked m y text messages and sure enough AB (my running partner) sent me a text at 4:46. She was on it! So I text her back and was like sorry. She text in response “you still want to go?” I said “Yep.” At this point I couldn’t even think about it, I just needed to get up and get ready, which thankfully doesn’t take a lot for me. However, it takes her about 10-15 minutes to get to me and then she needs to stretch so I knew we wouldn’t get started until 6:30 which meant we would be running until about 8:30.  My body wanted to tense up because I thought about the fact that we’d start after 6, the heat would be close to rising with the sun coming out shortly, the trails would have the not so early birders just starting and the air wouldn’t be that sharp crisp feeling like it is before 6.  So I tried to toss all of this out of my head as I grappled with the fact that I still had to run 10 miles.

Once I got outside, the air seemed like it was in our favor. It was nice and cool. The breeze wasn’t stagnant it felt like it was moving against my skin which told me that once I did warm up it would be refreshing. Nice. We made our way to the park and the thoughts in my head began to churn. “It wasn’t quite as cool as I thought, the clock was near 6:30 and we were JUST getting started- agghhh – and when we hit the trail it wasn’t empty at all. Still, I chose to focus. With a 10 mile run, equivalent to 3 loops around the park I told my body to precede easy otherwise I knew I’d burn out.  The first loop was quite good, we had a nice pace but it felt considerably slower. When we hit the heel I could feel the heat from the sun’s rays and thought – man we still have 2 more loops and hills to go. Once we got up the hill I felt the decline be kind to my shins.  Boy, was I thankful that we were on the way to completing our first loop.  There’s a water fountain, 2 traffic lights from our starting point. We usually get a drink there and so we did this time.  It was a quick stop; we were quickly on our way again but I must admit I felt like we on our 5^th loop versus our first.

We head into loop 2, our next 3.5 miles. We hit the downhill tread which feels really good. There’s a stretch after the first light that is shaded with trees; it feels nice and cool during that minute or so. Right after that I just stopped. I had a slight cramp and I felt like you know what I don’t want to do this. It was like in an instant the focused champ gave up. I knew I was but I just felt like I needed a moment in order to regroup. I didn’t know how long that moment was going to last. I did know that I was capable of more. I knew that I could at least finish this loop and its ensuing hills and another 20 minutes of running after that to do he half loop. I told AB to go ahead without me. She refused and said No, I’m not going to leave you. I’m staying with you, besides I think my knees could use a break. Thank God, I said to myself. So we walked. The loony in me came out. I spouted a lot of defeatist thoughts like “I want to lay down. I’m done. I want to go home. “She said,” C, you can do it.  We will finish even if we have to stop and walk some, we’ll finish this loop and then see how we feel for the third.” That’s all I needed to hear.

I looked over at the pile of rocks over on the road as we walked down the hill. I said, “we could build a rock cot right here and rest.” “A what,” she asked. We both just laughed.   Somehow that broke the tension. I mean who would lie down on a cot of rocks, that doesn’t seem too comfortable.  Not me, however, that’s just how badly I wanted to stop all movement. All of a sudden that image of a rock cot became the visual I held on to for not quitting; for not giving up; for not thinking that I needed to lie down. We chose to start up again at the next light and we did. Soon, my little cramp of anxiety was gone. The breeze felt more apparent and refreshing. The next thing you know we were coming up on the hill. And then we were up the hill. Then we saw one of my buddy’s -who comes out every Sunday- in a wheel chair getting his exercise in. Then we saw a trio of older guys getting their walk on. Right after that, we saw bike riders flooding into the park for a race. And, a little bit later we were at the fountain again for a wiggle of water. By then, going across the starting point for mile 3 wasn’t even a question, in fact we just coasted across the line on to loop 3. I was feeling so good and soaked with perspiration.  It was all good; we were on the way to mile 10.

Once we headed into the shady patch towards the spot of the rock cot I knew I was a finisher. I knew that what I felt roughly 40 minutes ago was a temporary mental lapse. I realize that this is what training and conditioning is all about, it’s working past the pain each time it comes. We made our way to the good stretch and decided to take a strategic break before the hills came. That break was like the sight of water in an arid desert.  We only walked for a light and picked it back up. Otherwise, our bodies would have become too comfortable.  Coming upon the hills I knew that all we had to do was just get up and over them. And we did with punchy steps whose sound was like that of a beginning typist. Still, we breathe and strove to keep our chests up to make it to the next downhill break. Once it came, it was practically over. See, at that point it makes no sense to even stop because it’s just about a mile to the finish line.

We made our way along with a view of sea of dog walkers and their pooches to the left, runners with nary a sweat bead starting their loop and cyclers just entering the park as part of their 100 mile race.  Then the sight of the water fountain came into faint view. Usually for the 6 mile run during the week this is where AB and I can feel our body pace instinctively pick up. I felt it today but it didn’t pick up that much. I did decide to pick up my feet because I felt there were dragging a bit. We passed the second to the last street light before the finish line. Once we hit the last streetlight before the finish line our ritual is to sprint it home. I wondered if we were going to sprint. I knew I didn’t want to but that want was quickly erased when AB asked “who we passing?” That meant I had to choose someone to pass. I chose a lady in a white shirt who was ¼ of the way past the final light. She said okay. AB took off and I knew I had to muster up the last bit of energy within me to do the same. Right when I began to pick it up I felt like the lady in white picked it up too. I really had to open my legs up wide in order to get a wider stride. Man it hurt but I did it. And as I saw the final light come up and the lady in white edge closer towards it I sprinted harder.  Made it.  MADE IT DOGGONE IT!  I made it as I looked at the finish line. I wasn’t across it yet when I slowed down a bit. I thought of the Jamaican runner in the Olympics who did the same thing. I looked behind me and she was right there. I took a leap and was officially across the finish line.

2 hours and 2 min.

Not bad! Not bad at all.  I was glad it was over. I was happy too that we maintained our pace pretty much 40 minutes per loop and about 12 minutes per mile.  We were unstoppable, so much for the rock cot. I ringed my towel and shirt and had thoughts of doing it again next week. Call me crazy because that’s what I am.

cde