Running Rock Star

Over the past few weeks, I've had the pleasure of running my long runs with a few different running buddies. I highly recommend this to anyone trying to run longer than a handful of miles, as it makes the time/mileage pass much more quickly. As this weekend approached, I had my sights set on 9 miles, and I spent the better part of the week begging all of those women to run them with me. It was rather pitiful.

But one of them was headed out of town, one was recovering from a week long stomach bug, and two of them were severely shorthanded on childcare. I was faced with my first long run by myself. I was DREADING it.

After church, the Champ and I ate brunch at Cracker Barrel, then we headed home so he could submerge himself in March Madness and I could begin my run. I suited up and reached the first trail head by 12:30. I hooked my ear buds around my ears, started the Usher playlist, pressed the start button on my stop watch, and took off. I ran the first 10 minutes non stop and then fell into my 4:1 run/walk ratio.

I don't know if you all are aware of this, but at 12:30 in the afternoon, it's HOT. This was the hottest day I have chosen to run, and because I'm a genius I waited until the sun was directly overhead before I started. Brilliant. By the time I reached the 3.5 mile trail head (the turn around point) I was roasting. I said a quick prayer that the city had finally decided to turn on the water fountains that adorn each trail head, but they hadn't, so I turned around and thought terrible things about them for the next 1/2 mile. I passed a father and son on their bikes, a couple of teenagers making out on a bench, and a family getting their pictures taken in a nearby field.

The fifth mile was the hardest, and probably the one that I walked the most. I was really missing my running buddies at this point, because peer pressure is probably the only thing that would have kept me from falling out of my ratio into a walk. I probably walked most of that mile, until a second wind hit and I began running again. When I passed my old high school, I began arguing with myself about what my distance goal was. I had no choice but to finish 7, but with the heat, sweat, thirst, and fatigue that started to sound like all I would be good for today. But then there was this voice that came from somewhere in my gut that I don't access very often. She sounded sure of herself. Confident. Like she meant business.

"No. You can keep going."

"But I NEED WATER!"

"You can take a break long enough to get water out of your car. No excuses. Keep going. Get your 9."

"But it's so hot. I'm sort of over it today."

"Get your 9."

So I jogged up the giant hill, got back into my 4:1 ratio and decided to play it by ear. Whatever this voice of determination was, I felt fairly certain I could shut her up by the time I got back to the car. I was so. over. it.

But as I rounded the last 1/4 mile to the car, I passed the same father and son on their bikes that I had passed at the 3.5 mile trail head. The dad recognized me, gave me a big thumbs up, and grinning said, "You're a rock star, girl! Way to go!"

And then there was that voice again.

"See! You're a rock star! You can do this! Get your nine. Get some water, then turn around and keep going."

And because that little ounce of encouragement felt SO GOOD, I believed her. I ran to my car, abandoned my stop watch, grabbed a bottle of water out of the front seat and turned back around. I tried running while drinking water, which apparently I'm not coordinated enough to do. So I walked a 1/4 mile while I drank. The water was nearly hot from sitting in the sun, but it was the best water ever! I passed a trash can, tossed it in, and started my run again. I just had to go to the 1 mile marker, then turn around again to get my 9. I felt pretty good, and as I approached that sacred mile marker that voice piped up again.

"Keep going. We're doing 10."

"WHAT?"

"I don't want 9. I want TEN. KEEP GOING."

She sounded so confident....and sort of bitchy, so I kept going.

As I reached the 1.5 mile marker, I listened for her again. I guess she was content, because she said nothing. I turned around quickly, lest she should decide to speak up again, and also because that particular mile marker smells like sewage.

I walked up the big hill, then found a comfortable pace and ran to the next trail head. I had to stop due to traffic crossing the street, and my body almost shut down right there. It was like picking two bricks up off the ground to get going again, and I practically crawled across the cross walk, but as I made it across, a gust of pride swept through me and carried me the last 1/4 mile.

I almost cried when I rounded the curve and saw my car sitting there in the parking lot. It looked way too far away.

As I stretched my legs, pulled on the door handle, and blasted the air conditioning, it hit me.

I just ran 10 miles.

And then there was that voice again saying, "You did it. You actually did it!"

Only that time, she didn't sound so demanding. She sounded relieved. She sounded proud.

She sounded an awful lot like me.