On Sunday, the first 5 miles were cake....
For the past couple of weeks my training has been, well, lacking -or- SAlacking. I think I covered maybe 20 miles in 14 days. More than a mile day. That's good, no?
NO! Not when I should be averaging 25-30 per week.
I went to visit Mom this weekend. Tough weekend, but one of the best, most hopeful I've had in the past year.
With the training slacking and my running confidence shot, I was unsure about whether I could even finish the 10. To me, a terrifying thought....to fail.
So all Saturday - mentally preparing for Sunday's run - I would battle between the thought "Just run the 10, you can walk if you need....just FINISH it!" to "Egh, you only need to do 8. Just get another 8 done and do 10 next week..." or even "You're on vacation. Start running when you get back to LA." The typical mental marry-go-round that begins when a long run is within 12/18 hours.
Sunday morning rolls around. I had planned to run early, and mentioned to my mom that I wanted to wake up at 8/830 to avoid the mid-afternoon Texas heat. However with no alarm clock or even CLOCK in my bedroom, I rolled - literally - out of bed at 10:00. [cue the mental battle] Great. There goes the cool run. Maybe I should just run tomorrow? ... NO! Stop that!
I ate breakfast slowly, chatted with my mom, checked Facebook, emailed some people, browsed my fav websites. Then I roamed around the house slowly putting on my running gear a piece at a time. Spent a good 10 minutes searching for a butt pack I knew hadn't shown it's face in the Piskun house since 1986. Finally I just said "STOP stalling Molly and get going."
It was 11:00 am. In July. In Texas. West Texas, to be exact. Yes. This is is where I decided to knock out my first 10-miler this year. This run, mid-afternoon, being hot as hell with 20 mile/hr winds in a tree-free Amarillo would definitely put up a good fight.
Like I said the first five were cake. Can you say foreshadowing?
As I turned around for my second 5, running from my house to the medical park and back, is when it hit me. Yes, it was hot. But a cold front had come in over the week, remnants from Hurricane Alex, to bless me with sub 90 degree temperatures so the heat wasn't as much of a factor as I has originally anticipated. But turning back, I realized why the first 5 had been so easy. The wind. It was at my back the whole way there.
Oh shitballs! This 5 is going to hurt.
Never, well maybe never, but not this training round have I ever had such a difficult run. I pulled every once of energy and positive reinforcement to finish. Miles 6, 7, 8 were OK, but barely. The last two were torture. Running into 20 mile/hr winds with the sun directly on top of me finally got to me after 3.5 miles and with a looming 1.5 to go.
I stopped running. And I never stop. The moment I took the one walking step I immediately started up again. I wouldn't allow myself, no I would not DENY myself the accomplishment of running the complete 10. I could suffer for another 15 minutes...
Make no mistake. That's exactly what I did. One stepped walked, 9.9999 miles ran.
For so long I put off the 10 because I was scared I wouldn't finish it. ME! Scared I wouldn't do something. It's like I don't even know myself.
Failure is not an option to me. It wasn't with my dad, it isn't with me. We all have it. ALL OF US. We all have the FIGHT gene when is come to fight-or-flight. We fight for ourselves and we most especially fight for each other, for this family. And that will never change.