Eeyore Goes Running
"Running creates a release of endorphins that can cause euphoria (runner's high) or just a general sense of happiness." Duke on the Move
“Running sucks.” Bobzyeruncle.
I was overdue for a long run today. Didn’t do one last Sunday, since I unexpectedly schlepped off to Italy. Depending on the training schedule I look at, I’m supposed to cover either 3 easy hours or 20 miles. I’m way behind on training Schedule 1 , so I try to do a little more than Schedule 2 … I figure as long as I’m somewhere in between the two I’ll be okay come June 11.
I get dressed, and since it’s cool and damp out (and looks like rain), I put on some layers … tights under running shorts, a long-sleeve breathable tee under a hoodie. And I set out, knowing I’m gonna go slowly and just take my time. Long and slow. Take walk breaks when I feel like it. Somehow I slacked all week and haven’t run since Milan’s Monday 4-mile mini-tour, and yet my knees and hips are already tired.
I headed north and ended up in neighborhoods I’d never heard of. The Council of Brent. Finchley Road … hmm, I think I’d heard of that but had no clue where it was. About an hour into it, I was ready for one of the graveyards I’d passed a few blocks back.
I’m too slow. I’m too tired. I’m too bored. I’m way overdressed. Rather than getting the rain I’d planned on, the sun is shining now and I’m being passed left and right by joggers (and a couple of walkers) appropriately attired in shorts and tank tops.
I know that some runs are better than others … just like anything else. You have good days, you have bad days. This must be one of the latter. In spades.
I stopped for a stretch. I found a little supermarket and bought a Lucozade. About 10 minutes later I’m back on pace … which lasted about a mile. I’m now 1’20” into the run, totally over it and not even half way done. I saw signs for West Hampstead (and a very tempting train station). I figured I was somewhere around Hampstead Heath (where I’ve still never been), which I thought would make for a nice place to log some junk miles, or at least lie down under a tree and have a little coma nap. And so I ran. Up hills and down. Really lovely homes on tree-lined hilly streets, with manicured grass and shiny Porsches in the front yards. It’s all much fancier than Brent.
By now I’m more on a walking / limping tour than out for a training run and feeling more than a little panic and desperation about the 26.2 miles I’m supposed to cover in 5 short weeks. My knees hurt. My left hip feels like it needs a pop. You know how when you need your back cracked? That’s how my hip’s been feeling for the past couple weeks. Ugh. Maybe I’ll take up Danny’s offer to be a part of his relay team … 6 miles would be so much more doable.
I made it to Regent’s Park, and instead of going around the park a couple times to get to 3 hours, I just walk/jog home.
Total run = 2.5 hours and 11 miles. Totally pathetic. But, on the other hand … we do have bad days, I didn’t have much fuel in my engine (2 cups of coffee and a piece of toast is all I’d had this morning prior to the run), and I hadn’t run since Monday. But still, not so good.
I’m not ready to hang up my trainers just yet, but I’m definitely changing my goal from 4:30 to “just finish the blasted thing.” I’ll be very disappointed if I don’t break 5 hours, but I guess there’s no point killing myself.
Let's see how the week goes.
If Forrest can do it, I guess I can too. Run, Bob, Run.