Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Perfect Example of "The Body Won't Go Where the Mind Won't Push It."



Sunday night around 7pm I went out for a run, this was going to be my first long run of the marathon training season...a solid 10 mile trek!  I knew it was gonna be a rough one because there was still choppy frozen slush covering the sidewalks and the temperature had crept to a frigid 12 degrees.  I geared up and went out.

It was a miserable run, I was cold and wet and still recovering from my runs in the middle of the week.  Each time I head out in the ice, I have several brushes with certain death as I hit a black ice patches or step on a chunks of ice in the middle of the sidewalk.  Despite these dangers, I usually have a pretty good time when I put my feet in motion.

This run was rough.  I found many spots of slush were not frozen through and I spent the first 3 miles plunging foot after foot into semi solid muck that caused slippage with each step and enough splash that my legs to my knees were sopping wet.  After hitting a city maintained section of street things became tolerable for about 15 minutes.  Then I turned and headed east and the wind was blowing right in my face for the next 2 miles, causing brain freeze even through my knit running hat.  The backstretch was a long bit down 28th street in Boulder that stretches about 3 miles and it was during this section that my legs began to tighten, my body began to ache and I felt my energy reserves depleting very rapidly.  The ice and slush was relentless.  Once I finished with the Broadway section and I realized I had only two miles left; I felt a rush of energy and resolved to finish strong and picked up my pace.  Unfortunately, that last two miles took me through a neighborhood that was not as familiar to me as my usual stomping grounds and I ended up lost looking for the path I was supposed to pick up to head home.  I eventually found my way and I arrived home in time for me to collapse on the couch in a heap of sweaty, nauseous, gasping humanity.

It took about two hours for the nausea to diminish and I immediately looked forward to next weekends 12 miler.

Running is not about getting through it painlessly.  Running is not about sprinting over city sidewalks with a big stupid smile on your face.  Running does not get easier.  Each week I am lucky to have one run out of five that makes me feel that elusive peace and oneness with my body and my surroundings.  The other 4 runs each week could be and usually are  pretty much fuck all.  But one each week makes me yearn to get back to that place in my head and body where the world make sense.

Happy Running!

Rob and Jess