Saturday’s Workout Stats:
Route: through Wellesley Ctr., Natick Ctr. and back again
Best Song: iPod-free
Fifteen miles, baby!
Can I get an “Amen”?
I ran my tail off Saturday for what will surely be featured on The 2008 SportsCenter Year In Review show as “Best Comeback.”
No shin splints. No lower back pain. Just a whole lot of snacking (chocolate Goo, watermelon Moons, PB & Chocolate Powerbar), drinking (water and blue Gatorade in the fuel belt, plus an official water station at Mile 10), and, um, some running too.
Everything felt good! Until about Mile 12, that is. It was then when my body started (how do I phrase this without violating my G-for-Gorgeous site rating?) freaking the heck out. My mind? That followed suit in a truly notable performance.
The toughest thing was the lack of mile markers. I really didn’t know where I was at any point in the run and I panicked as the time ticked away (which I could only learn from my super-informative running partner, because my watch, too, umm … “freaked the heck out” on me). Around ever corner, I knew that if there really was a God, the end must be near. But where?
Had I known I was only ½ mile from the finish line, I never would have stopped at Mile 14.5 for the dreaded walk break. I was running with a teammate (Kristen – this is her third Boston – hence her aforementioned super-informativeness) for many, many miles, and when 14.5 came up, all of a sudden my freaking-out body merged with my freaking-out mind and it was all I could do not to vomit, pass out, and go to the bathroom – at the very same time. (Yummy.) So, in true military action-movie style, I said, out of breath and dripping with sweat, “Go on without me!”
Anyway, there were a lot of people around. There were also cars, traffic, jovial boutique shoppers, and many runners behind me, so instead of just imploding in a pile of sweat, fear, and electrolyte-replacement fluid, right there on the side of the street, I decided to walk it off.
What is “it”, you might ask? It’s pretty much what I imagine your spine collapsing might feel like. It was more of a sensation of disbelief than anything else. For a mile or two, I had been feeling the impact of every single step. Running wasn’t just running, it was mechanically jutting out my hip, thrusting my upper leg forward, hinging my knee, landing (THUMP) on the heel of my foot and then (TWEET) the balls and then throwing one elbow back and shoving the other fist forward in efforts to make it all happen again.
I guess I became mentally nervous that my motions were becoming so deliberate and my mind was becoming so acutely aware of every effort (on a cellular level) that was working to come together to make this motion happen.
So, I walked. Just for a minute.
And then, O great beaconing, shining, Skittles-spewing salvation of all glorious light and heavenly gifts – there was the finish line.
Collapsing spine? Realigned.
Holy-crap-this-is-how-it’s-going-to-end feeling? Vanished.