Let me rephrase that: Run 20 miles inside your oven - on broil - and then drop.
Because that's how hot it was today. When we had our longest training run so far. It might not have been quite as warm as it was two weeks ago, when we ran 18. It might only have been incredibly unbearable today as opposed to completely unbearable.
Making it even more enjoyable was the unrelenting sun that beat on us like a Top Chef flattening a chicken breast.
It. Was. Brutal.
We walked a couple miles toward the end. And we were fine with it. Because it was hot. In case I hadn't mentioned. At one point we even stopped in a Starbucks were a nice young Barristaman gave us large cups of ice and water.
We poured lots of it over our heads and put ice cubes in our sports bras. We live on the edge, people!!
The other thing is 20 miles is far. Think about it. Get in your car. Drive 20 miles away. Get out. Run back.
Yeah.
I'm actually starting to psyche myself out. I haven't trained like I did for my first marathon, mostly because of my foot injury. I cross-train but I don't strength train. The physical therapy I started Friday pointed out how weak my legs and hips are. I have a month to work on that.
There are women out there who appear to be, how shall I put it, a tad fluffier than my training partners and me. And yet they are faster. And no one seems to be struggling like us (although we did run two miles longer than everybody else).
I am worried. I'm hoping to have a good marathon. At least, if I start getting tired, I can think back on today and what I endured - and survived. I even managed to run the final mile or so. Even though, by then, the water in our bottles had reached the same temperature as our bodies.
"It's like piss," I said. Which is, incidentally, just what your friends want to hear as they're taking some nice big swigs.
And then Torrey made an excellent point. Who says piss? Pissed off, yes. But piss? I'm not even sure when the last time was I actually said that word by itself. Heat and sun and sweat to crazy things to the brain (including earlier, when I managed to insult two of Cindy's favorite sports and her heritage. Sometimes diarrhea of the mouth is not so much better than the other kind).
Overall, though, I enjoyed spending time with Cindy and Torrey. And no offense to them, but I'm looking forward to spending less time with them on next week's run, which we think will be about 15 - before we go up to 20+ the following week.
Here's hoping for cloud cover!
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
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She wants her planet back. Woolfy – “Shooting Stars” Funny how his voice in
this song made me think he was singing ratchet instead of rapture. I heard
this...
2 years ago
1 comment:
Piss was absolutely an appropriate word for the temperature, appearance and taste of the Gatorade I got at that 3.5 mile water stop. Blech! It just hadn't occurred to me before you mentioned it. Thank goodness for my journalist friend and her mastery of the English language
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