Or, how to stress-eat and make a permanent ass-print on your couch.
Yes, I am double posting today, thank you for noticing. It happens when my depressed ass puts it off all week long. This one picks up where the time trial post left off, with me fully rested and ready to take on 16 on Saturday morning.
Not surprisingly, I overslept. That meant that I rushed to get out of the house, ate breakfast in the car, and left several pieces of preferred gear at home. I made it to the marina in the knick of time but immediately noticed a small problem. My girls weren't there. In fact, everyone in the group who runs at my pace weren't there. I was a little unnerved but I didn't have time to really process that as we promptly took off.
A few weeks earlier I tanked on my 14 miler, turning it into 10 and letting Hains Point get the better of me. Last week I nailed my 12 and another 5 later in the day. Then came two days of solid short runs followed by the mile debacle. I couldn't have been more rested for this 16, and I wanted some Hains Point redemption. As it turned out, I would get nothing. I felt off from the first step.
The rest of the group quickly disappeared while I struggled to find a comfortable pace. This isn't unusual for the first mile or so, but the pace wasn't the problem. My calves were screaming. For reasons beyond my comprehension my calves completely seized up and I was walking by the time I reached Arlington Cemetery. I immediately started bargaining with myself, shortening the run faster and faster and thinking that perhaps I could gut out 6 and make it to the water stop before quitting. A handful of painful steps later, 6 miles was out of the question.
The shin that had plagued me earlier in the week was like new, but my calves were completely betraying me. I swallowed a sob, turned around, and started the walk back to my car. It felt like the longest mile, as I got more upset with every step. I reached my car, texted Tuan to tell him I was done for the day, and went home. It was still incredibly early and I didn't see the point in staying awake. Several hours later I dragged my sorry ass to the couch and stayed there for the duration. It was there that many a snack met its unseemly end.
I don't feel that much better today, honestly. I know it was only one run and there is plenty of time before Richmond. I know what all the right thoughts and feelings are, I'm just not embracing them. I'm frustrated that my body refused to cooperate. I can't get into a consistent routine and my base building is suffering for it. I briefly entertained the idea of running this morning just to check things out but I didn't have it in me. I'm also cancelling my regular Monday run with A until I can see my chiropractor tomorrow afternoon.
I'm glad that I have a health professional that is caring and committed to getting me on the road. I have no doubt that he'll provide relief, however temporary, tomorrow and we'll begin to game plan what next steps should be. Corrective exercises are number one on the list. I'm not the best at doing such things on my own, but I think I'm just pissed off enough to do them this time around.
I leave for vacation on Thursday morning and will be gone for a week. I don't have specific plans to run but will be packing the necessary gear regardless. If tomorrow goes well I plan to get in two runs before I go. Missing another long run does not thrill me, but it's only a 10 miler, not something more substantial. I can only hope that this week of yoga, sun, and sand will be the physical and mental break that I need. When I get back I want to feel focused and confident, two things which are currently alluding me.
I hope that your running experiences this past week have been more positive than mine. Tomorrow is another day, right?