Sunday, July 29, 2007

on training, ii.

Today was a 13 mile run. I went with friends who were going 11, so I parked a mile away from the meeting point to get my extra two miles in.

The run today was just...hard. It was hot. I wouldn't say I've gotten an ample amount of sleep in the past few days. I started out fine, being a cheerleader to my friends and trying to end any negative talk. But in the second half of the run, I was the negative nilly. My breathing was heavy. I started to whimper like a sad puppy at stoplights. A whiny voice in my head said, "I don't wanna run a whole marathon! I don't want to even run half!"

Somewhere a bit later, the breathing got easier but it was like my legs couldn't move. By this point we were going pretty slow. We passed a family on the sidewalk, who were of course taking up the whole thing with their strollers and what not. The guy had the nerve to say, "Come on, you can go faster than that!" It took a lot of strength not to say, "Shut up." Instead I just said, "11 miles," the tone implying, "Hey bunghole, talk to me when you've done the same." My friend smartly muttered "Fuck you" under her breath.

And after all of this, I somehow pulled it around on my last lone mile. It was slow, but not awful. The good news: next week, my long run is only ten miles. (haha. haha. What have I gotten myself into? I don't know either.)

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