Running Through

Yesterday was long run day. Typically on long run day, I anticipate mileage north of 10 that is slow and not particularly aggressive. I call it my "stroll". It's a good zone 2 workout without a lot of speed. A half and half builder of mental toughness and good running "base".

Yesterday was different. 

On Thursday, I logged into Training Peaks to see that the coach had posted this as my long run workout for Sunday: 14 miles/1:50. Followed by, "You have a good base coming off your Half Ironman." She had some other stuff in there too about pacing and for which mile but I looked right past all of that to what really mattered: 1:50.

RIGHT. Need I mention that during said 70.3 I dehydrated and had to WALK a good portion of the run? HMMM. Need I also mention that it's been a couple of weeks since I have done a long run (hello TAPER).  To say the least, I was a bit ..... incredulous.

But then, I asked, "What if?". What if I just hauled my ass out there and ran that long run like a race? Could I get close to 1:50? The weather was supposed to be perfect - 70 degrees and cloudy. My kind of day. SO why NOT? 

I drove to the Baltimore-Annapolis Trail. The only place I could think of that had already done the hard work of counting the miles (with mile markers). I knew the terrain (always a comfort) and there were enough hills to partially replicate what I would encounter on race day. I did a quick inventory. Hammergel, check. Water, check (there is water along the trail so dehydration would not be an issue). Sunscreen, check. Mental attitude in the positive, double check. 

I took off with the fancy Timex watch in tow. I wanted to get an idea of pace so I decided that equipment was in order for this long run. I decided to warm up for three miles and then build. After the build I would RACE the rest of the run. Despite ignoring most of her instructions, I knew my coach would get it. I needed to understand where I might blow up, how and under what sort of circumstances. I needed to see if I could come close to 1:50 without blowing up. But that's the rub. I had to be willing to blow up.

At the end of three miles, I felt great. Time to build. I looked at the fancy Timex. I was pleasantly surprised at my time. I was ahead of where I thought I would be. I was encouraged. Next up, the build. I kept reducing my time by 10 seconds per mile, then 15. I neared mile 6 and picked up the pace again. It was slightly uphill but I kept the increased pace. I covered the next mile, ate some Hammergel and turned around. Time to RACE. I set my sights on sub-nines. At this point in my healing adventure, this is a good time for me for a 14 mile run. When I looked at the fancy watch at mile 8, I couldn't believe it! I was doing FAR better than just sub-nines. I was crushing it. I picked up the pace again. Systemically, I felt fine. My glutes, however, were beginning to give way.

Mile 10. Always the hardest mile. It's in that middle place where you really have to focus. I was tired, my form was slipping and I was losing mental focus. STEADY PRESSURE on the HILLS, I kept repeating to myself (sometimes out loud) to bring my focus back to where I was. Here, running. NOW. FORM. KEEP the FORM.

By mile 11, it was all uphill. Steady pressure. As I ran, the sensation to stop and walk washed over me. I declared NO out loud. I began to run past the sensation. As I ran past it, I ran past what felt like a film of the former me - a diaphanous membrane with the texture of a bubble. The old me. The injured me. The me who has been holding me back. The fearful me. I ran through her. Through the bubble, the fatigue and doubt. I simply just ran through. I felt her trying to claw me back. As if she were saying "Wait, you don't know where this will go. You could fail or get hurt. You could...." I kept running. I slipped through the membrane and mile 13. 

ONE MILE TO GO. I was still running. As fast as I could go. Leg turnover, excellent. Speed, good. Glutes and hamstrings, OUCH.

As the "finish line" approached, I looked down at the display of the fancy Timex: 2:06. NOT bad. NOT bad at all. Sub nines for training means sub nines for the race. Tired, sore, achy and happy, I stretched and listened to the birds singing around me.

I glanced back up the trail, through the trees to the wooden bridge where legs burning and at their limit, I defied myself and ran through. I smiled. I didn't blow up. I made it. And I will again. Metric Marathon, here I come.