You've gone 19.70 miles of a 20-mile run, and you've just passed your apartment. You wish you could stop, but you refuse to quit after all that work, so you keep moving and think about how to come up with .30 miles. You turn onto Colony Street.
Your legs sort of stopped responding about a mile back. You're still moving forward at a run, so the signal from your brain must be going through, but your legs feel like a distant blur of sensation.
You turn onto Washington Street, figuring that you can loop around, and then realize that you're running up the hill. Yet another hill. The last thing you needed was another hill.
You keep going. Your run becomes a kind or ragged trot that seems to favor one side. You imagine that someone watching you must think you're doing some sort of pony impression. In your exhausted state, you find this inexplicably funny. Ponies? Are you becoming delusional? Stop thinking about ponies and keep running.
Your GPS watch beeps, telling you you've done 20 miles. You see the back end of your apartment ahead and finish the final bit of distance at a run. It's the principle of the thing. You don't stop for the last 30 feet. You limp up the fire escape and get inside.
You pry off your sodden clothes and look at your right foot, noticing the large blood blister below the ball. "Oh", you say, rather matter of factly.
You do your stretching, which will stop you from being unbelievably sore the next day. You've been doing yoga for six year and your balance is pretty nifty. You can do handstands and arm balances, but today, you barely stop yourself from toppling over as you stretch.
You finish and head to the kitchen and systematically devour a couple thousand calories of fruit. You'll need 5,100 today just to break even. Michael Phelps needs 12,000 a day. How does he do that? you think.
You take a shower and then plop down into your chair. The fruit is already doing its thing and within an hour you feel 70 percent revived. You'll need sleep though, and lots of it, to fully recover.
Your mood feels really really great despite the hell you just put yourself through. This is runner's high. You'll feel fantastic the rest of the day.
"He he he," you find yourself chuckling for no reason. "20 miles, you crazy SOB". Yes, you've definitely cracked, because there's nothing funny about it.
Note: I just did up the map and it said my route was 21.61 miles, though my GPS said 20. I have to think that the GPS is more accurate, but who knows.
This was a tough run. No getting around it. From the very beginning I had less energy than on my previous 18-mile run last weekend. I wasn't getting enough sleep on the previous days, so that might have caused it. Maybe I needed more carbs.I also had some cramps at the beginning of run, which was different than last time.
That's the thing about running. It's half stuff you can control and half intangibles that you're unsure you can control.
Also, I registered for the marathon, so I'm all set.
Sunday I went to the beach to get some sun on my blister and wash it in the salt water. Felt really good to lie in the sun.
Today I decided to go biking for maybe 10-12 miles.