Yesterday’s 15 miles recap - or how I almost called Luke to come and pick me up 1/4 of a mile from our house.
I am completely amazed that I was able to do this.
I remember thinking at mile 2, “dear God, I have to do this how many more times?” But I did it. I ran 15 fucking miles. Holy crap.
I feel like it this morning, too. Ouch.
The long and short of it was this: the first 5 miles were absolutely amazing. The next 6 miles were actually pretty good. The four miles after that were complete hell, ending with my left leg sort of seizing up on me .25 miles from my house and me limping home.
If you want to hear the rest in agonizing detail, feel free to click this little link:
I decided that I was going to break my run into three “parts.” I would only think about doing 5 miles at a time. And that was a super amazing idea for me mentally. At the end of each 5 mile session I would come home for about 3 minutes - just enough time for Rusty and I to get some water, and for me to eat some Gu Chomps and go to the bathroom. It worked out really well, I think.
I also decided that I was going to do my buddy Scooter’s 4/1 run/walk ratio - which also worked very well. Although, halfway through my body was like, “hey, how about a 2/1 ratio?” I fought it as hard as I could.
Here’s the breakdown:
Miles 1-5: Amazing. I couldn’t believe how well things were going. I finished in 1:01 and I couldn’t have been happier. I was flying!!!
Miles 6-10: Not that bad. Some good moments. Some bad moments. But it all eventually evened itself out and turned out to be a pretty average run - which I was so totally okay with. Finished in about 1:05. I was amazed.
Mile 11: I started strong, but was feeling every single blister that my feet had collected - no fewer than five. I felt two of them pop. It seriously felt like my feet had been shredded to ribbons. And my left leg started to feel a little achy and weird.
Mile 12 - 15: Pain. So. Much. Pain. At this point there was more walking than running. Rusty was way out ahead of me and kept looking back over his shoulder like, “hey, what’s wrong? We’re just getting started here!” He looked so happy. I hated him a little bit. I would run for a minute, walk for five. Things were looking bad fast. My leg was really hurting now. I knew that if we stopped even just long enough for Rusty to pee that it would be all over. I just had to keep moving forward. I didn’t care how I did it. Then it happened: .25 miles from my house my left leg completely cramped up. I could barely move it. I stopped. I was crying at this point, and had been for probably the last mile without even realizing it. I thought for a second about calling Luke to come and get me. But I didn’t. I could see my house. I was going to finish. It wasn’t exactly 15. More like 14.5, but that was, and is, good enough for me. I limped the .25 miles home and basically collapsed into my shower.
I still can’t believe I did it. I ran over half of a marathon. I even clocked my half marathon time (just under 3:00, which bodes well for the Charlottesville Marathon that has a time cut off of 6:00). I honestly can’t believe it. It feels a little like a dream.
But then I get up and try to walk and I realize that it all actually happened.