In The Long Run…

I hit the 9mile mark in my training for the half-marathon yesterday.  Which means that I had to run 9 miles.  Nine *glorious* miles of never-ending prairie roads, where you can see exactly how far away the half-way point is.  Sometimes, I wish I lived back in the city.  Where there was a river.  With nice, winding paths.  And prettier scenery than last year’s stubble field.  And those, by the way, are not my legs.  My calves aren’t quite that beautiful.  or tan. although the shoes could be mine…

anyway…I love running.  And I don’t mind the long runs really.  They can be relaxing and peaceful, just (apparently) not yesterday’s.  I think I may very well have hit all 5 stages of grief in that run:

Denial:  This would have been in miles 1-2, where I was telling myself “this isn’t so bad” and “that wind isn’t too strong” and “my legs feel really fresh”…

Anger:  This hit me in mile 5 when I turned on to the freshly graded grid road.  Running on a freshly graded grid road is akin to running on marbles.  Consider how fun that could be.

Bargaining:  Probably also somewhere along mile 5 – when I was telling myself that if I could just make it to that next field approach or telephone pole, then I could keep on running to the next field approach or telephone pole (not really a bargaining chip), or that if I ever made it to the corner and on to mile 6, then I could eat all the gummy bears in my little bag that I was toting along (a better bargaining chip).  Or that Liz had probably run an effortless 9 miles already probably didn’t have achy legs after either…

Depression:  Definitely on mile 8, when I turned back onto the paved highway, and thought that I was running really fast, and really making time, until I hit the mile mark and looked at my watch to see what my split time was…yeah, not so fast.  In fact, not any faster than my last mile.  Which had been painstakingly slow.  Apparently, when your legs are a bit numb from 8 miles of running, it can feel like you’re going fast.  But that’s just because you can’t feel your legs.

Acceptance:  Mile 9, where I finally admitted that this was as bad as it felt, and that wind really was that strong, and my legs really did feel that numb, and that spot on my big toe probably was a blister…

The best part of my run came at the end (of course) as I topped the *hill* that marked the last half a mile of my run and started on the way down.  “Boom Boom Pow” started playing on my ipod (thank you Suzy) and I sped down that hill and up the short incline to my driveway, and STOPPED.  And immediately felt better.  Until I got inside and had to walk down the stairs.