"Miles of Misery"
"Cold Face, Sweaty Everything Else"
"Ouch my calves hurt"
I just woke up from an hour and a half nap. It was...unreal. Amazing. Fabulous. Why do I not feel guilty about napping away the afternoon even though there are still papers to grade and lessons to plan? Because this morning I ran 12 miles. Wait, let me rephrase that...I ran...walked...shuffled...crawled...hobbled 12 miles.
Last Sunday I wrote this post about my amazing, energetic, dreamy 10 mile treadmill run. Today did not go nearly as well. However, I am not feeling bad about myself or my run because
a) I did the best I could
b) I believe that exercise is never something to feel bad about, no matter how well or how poorly the workout went
c) I did not quit.
^Especially that last one. Once upon a time I was Little Miss Quits When Things Get Tough (specifically workouts). I quit runs at the first sign of fatigue. In fact, I would usually quit at the first time I had to walk. Since I've switched to the Galloway Method of run/walk intervals, obviously I have gotten over my lunatic belief that walking = failure. I have also gotten over my silly little notion that any imperfect workout is a failure. The only time I fail myself is when I quit (this of course does NOT refer to running injured. My tibia, gratefully, held up through the entire run with no pain.). So today's run was a success. No matter how miserable I felt while out there!
|Today's Running Mantra|
|The Starting Line...YAWN!!!|
After Mile 7 I stopped at home to shed a layer, take a potty break, and take a 5 minute mental break. I did not sit on the couch or anything--I definitely would have been tempted to just quit. But I really needed 5 minutes to just gather my thoughts and give myself a little pep talk before heading out for the last 5 miles. I think it really helped. I told myself that I only had 5 more miles, and 5 miles were a piece of cake. That's what I told myself all the way through then end of the run: Just 4 more miles now! That's 2/3 of the way DONE! Just 3 miles left! That's just a 5K, you can do those no problem! Only 2 to go now! Homestretch! 1 measly mile left! Half a mile! Quarter of a mile! ALMOST THERE, JUST KEEP MOVING!!!"
And, somehow, I made it. 12 miles. Almost the entire half-marathon distance. My pace may have been so slow I was almost standing still, but 12 miles is 12 miles. And I'd say, that is definitely something worth celebrating, no matter how badly it hurt. Actually, maybe even more so because it was a rough run, because in spite of all of that, I didn't quit.
Alright, foam roll time...owowowowowow...