Nearly there

Sure it's all fun and games until the aul' lady falls apart.

  

My long training run the other day left me sore, discouraged, and feeling like a complete eejit.

7:3o AM

Mile one, it was the lungs. Don't smoke, kids, it's bad for you, and you never know when you might want those vital organs to function properly.

By mile 2, I was noticing that hopping out of the car and beginning the run right away (because yes, I was late to meet the training group) didn't really work as well for me as 15 minutes of warm-up and active stretching. I remained optimistic, though, and didn't let those pesky negative voices defeat me.

8:30 AM

At some point, I cheerfully noticed that the runner who, up until that time, had always been the last, had passed me, and I was running a steady pace a few hundred yards behind her. "Good for her! Way to go!" I thought.

Mile 6 and 7, my hamstrings were screaming for mercy.
The runner who had always been the last was now a black spec in the distance.

Mile 8 was just muscle memory. My blood sugar level was drooping, I was fatigued, and I wished I had remembered headphones (they're discouraged during the training runs, but when you're that far behind everyone else, it doesn't really matter), cause I was pretty sure that I could finish by nightfall if only I had some music to distract me.

I still don't get how I can go so slowly and till be "running", but I manage.

It was then that my silent Buddhist mantra was replaced with "near-ly there..." in cadence with my incredibly slow footfall. The scenery was becoming familiar again – I would make it back to the car somehow. Even if it felt like my right shin had shattered. Yes, definitely shattered.

By mile 8.95428 I must have been weeping. That can be the only explanation for the couple who passed me and looked back at me in alarm. What's so unusual about a middle-aged woman running in slow-mo begging to be airlifted to the parking lot? "Near-ly there..."

No real damage done to the old carcass, but a real wake-up call. 9 miles in 2 hours. Ouch! I had better be ready to be on my feet running for three hours (Yes! Pathetic, I know) for the half marathon. This Super-Slow Granny has some work to do.