Wednesday, July 17, 2013
My last blog entry was about the triumph of an excellent run.
This one is about the same thing.
Today I had to run 4 miles on my training program. My last PR was three miles. That is a WHOLE MILE MORE.
Guys. That is a lot more.
At about 1.75, I was very very tired. My shoelace came undone and it was magical because it meant I could stop for thirty seconds and tie it. And then I kept going. And I started talking to myself.
You are going to get four miles.
You are GOING to get four miles.
Once I broke into two miles I told myself, get to three miles, run straight to three, and you can get a sip of water. You can stop just long enough to get some water.
So I ran to 3.1, ran to my car, sipped my water, ripped my shirt off, and went back to it.
I was tired. I was so tired.
Without going into details, things have been hard lately. Life has been hard. Awesome Husband and I are totally okay. We are not the issue. Together, we are so strong. But everything else has been remarkably hard. I've needed a win.
When RunKeeper told me my average mile pace had fallen to ten minutes per mile, I started sprinting the straight aways. I was the kind of tired where I thought,
"Well, if I keep going like this, I am going to vomit all over myself."
So I'd slow way down. Then speed up. Then slow down. And gasp. And gulp hard to fight the rising tide of nausea.
And I got them. I got my four miles. At an average pace of 10 min/mile. I'll take it.
I love lifting weights. I don't love running. But I'm finally beginning to understand. I love that feeling of knowing that I left nothing behind. I could not possibly have given more. I gave everything I had.
Feels like a win.