Still, I am used to the 14-milers now. I think I've done about four or five of them so far in this training cycle. I am even used to running the last few miles under half-marathon pace. Just like the marathon training, when I was fixated on the numbers 3:40 (goal time) and 8:20 (pace), I see my target numbers everywhere. Houses, license plates, clocks:
1:40 (goal)
7:37 (pace)
The 14-mile training runs are rote, and the times might as well be tattooed on me.
And then on Saturday I walked it in.
Walking. I like walking on a beautiful spring day in Harvard Square. I did it yesterday. It was lovely. I like going for a little walk to prevent the emergence of my alter-ego, Mommy Who Yells. I endorse walking. But not when I should be running.
I do not like walking mile 14 of a training run.
I knew the run would be ugly, but not that ugly. I was in such a foul mood that when I saw a young deer playing in some tall grasses, all I could think was "bastard tick vehicle."
The ITB and piriformis pain really set in about mile 9, so I stopped to stretch in the drizzle. But the mosquitoes were ravenous for some blood seasoned with sweat and frustration, so I had to keep moving or I'd be eaten alive. When my Garmin let me know it was time to pick up the pace for the last two miles, I tried. I really did. But by then, my entire body wanted me dead.
At mile 13, it was over. Walking a mile takes a lot longer than I would have thought, giving me plenty of time to cultivate some solid self-chastisement and providing the mosquitoes an opportunity to dig in with wild abandon.
This put me in really magical mood for Mother's Day. I got up Sunday and basically ditched my loving family for a 15-mile bike ride to gain some perspective and a lot of pollen in my eyeballs from the wind.
An obviously much-needed massage appointment to work out the knots fell through in the afternoon, leading me to lose the perspective I'd gained when I whined, "Even my massage guy is avoiding me!" I can't believe that is a sentence I've spoken. Woe is me.
Still, a day on which I consume a breakfast of bacon, champagne, and city life is a good day. And maybe those three are just the tonic for my IT Band and pain in the butt. Because that, a foam roller, and an abundance of self-pity are all I've got to ease my pain.
*Generic-brand Claritin, you are a cruel box of non-drowsy empty promises.
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10 comments:
It's like the old saying goes, bacon heals all wounds.
Your post is hilarious. I haven't laughed so much in a long time.
thanks..
PS I agree with the claritin. I switched to allegra. Ahhh!
I heart American bacon. The English stuff is total shite.
I have a cramp in my right butt cheek. Together we have a complete pain in the ass. That's comforting, isn't it? :)
Well, nothing says happy mother's day like bacon and champagne--had to take some of the pain away, right? Hope you loosen up soon--without the aid of alcoho-because while running drunk sounds fun, hard to get a 1:40 doing that :)
I hate it when my gardener and chauffer call in sick on the same day. Life can be so cruel.
Take heart, there is a muscle soothing cream made from the tears of orphaned children that has been proven to cool a prickly IT band!
Boy we've all had days like that- walking home from a run. Grrr. That sucks. But soon enough you'll be back to Rock Star Mama and will forget about walking home. ;) Hang in there! OR just stay screw it and start riding your bike.
Allergies have a way of really sucking the life out of a day...sorry to hear you're suffering.
Oh man, I feel your pain. I've been fighting with my IT band too (with a half marathon right around the corner at the end of May). Arg! It's so frustrating! And I'm doing the foam roller, stretching, and strengthening. And yet, I also had to walk the last mile of my run today. Hang in there! I'm rooting for you!
Bacon and champagne... toooo funny! :-D
Ouch, that was a rough one...
...but there is always bacon!!
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