Yesterday I reached the peak of my training goal. The 22 miler. Even I thought maybe that was pushing it but happy to say here I am on the other end in the first day of my taper. On my porch blogging as I entertain the misquitos with my blood. I am too tired to get up.
Yesterday I got up at 5 am ready to conquere this task. And it's the end of summer and I spent a good hour and a half waiting for sunrise, I should have maybe slept in a hour but I didn't.
I got to the track, first one as usual every saturday this summer. It's a little chilly but i can tell it's going to be a nice day. I called mom before I got out of the truck, I was worried about something. She assures me to get going. I get ready and tell myself to focus. It's not hard to get a runner going for something this worked for but I will admit the worrier in me is hard to carry along. I focused on my music. I hate to skip right to mile 10 but I literally struggled to settle down the whole time. At one point a certain song on my MP3 player actually made me cry. I just kept running, crying, snotting everywhere trying to find a reason to not run in the other direction in panic mode. I just kept telling myself this was part of training, to endure, to go on, and to CHILL THE HELL OUT.
At mile 11 my stomach got nervous too, and I had to take a dump. When your stomach does yoga you stop thinking so much. You start to concentrate on your continence. Disclaimer: we are going to toilet humor...stand down. I finally then decided not pooping my pants was more important than worrying and I finally dropped mindfreakmanda off near the pottys and vowed to pick her back up when I was done. Finally a portajohn I yell at myself this is a horrible long run I am not going to make it. I hop in and hop directly out. Ewwww. Yep not happening. I go running across a field cheeks clenched praying to making it to the latrines. This poses issues. Porta John is a single stall with a locking door. Latrine is not its a hallway with two about 12 feet deep holes in the ground with a toilet seat on them. Someone could definitely walk in on 12 miles of pent up frustration. It's not a pretty site. It's a sweat women in full marathon dork gear. In a hover squat with a fuel belt out of breath and taking a 12 feet drop poop. I can imagine it would sound like a discus thrower tossing rotten tomatoes into a cement wall. At the times I am forced to use bathrooms in this manor I am always grossed out and can't wait for a shower. It's also funny, I am aware. I am going to laugh about these character building experiences After I got myself back together I continued on. For about 2 miles or so I was thinking Oh garbage I will have to go all day, but I settled down and didn't have to make any more trips to the nasty holes.
There isn't much to say about the second half except I really enjoyed it. Honest. Something clicked and I smiled. I enjoyed the day. I would run playing crazy thoughts as I usually do. I would run around the massive horse turd and think yep horse turds still there. Then I would run over the bridge up the hill and back again step over a dead mouse baby and think oh it's a fetus with diabetus, poor fetus. I ran past/over it 4 times thought it everytime. I makeup funny little names for people at the track. I don't know them by name but I sure look at them enough to know them. Theres Champ he's there every Saturday, a personal favorite. Then there's dog in a stroller lady. Then there is the white Jamacian runner, she is always there she is uber fast. There is Ma and Pa poodle walkers. And my not so favorite Jean Nate' herself. I don't like running past her ever. There is a time a place for perfume, that's just not it. The park maintenance guys in red trucks, Haus, Huckleberry, Gumboliath, and Larry the maintenance guy. They see me and they look weird at me every time cause I see them more than once like at every shelter hours and hours, I know they think I must look just like me. They do a good job, they even got rid of the massive horse turds before I ran through the last time, I appreciate their service especially since they clean the latrines that I often um visit.
The last 18 I was still going pretty well, just getting tired and taking dumb walk breaks. I decided to pull on the company of others. I talked with a nice girl for a quarter mile and it was fantastic I really appreciated her company. I carried on when she left. Then at mile 20 I started stupid walking again. Some poor guy trotting along I pretty much begging him to pace me. He was really nice about it, his name was Ken I told him what I was going for and he stayed with me. I told him to go on after a while but he told me it was okay that it was nice to talk to someone he didn't have ear buds in I can imagine that would be true it can get old listening to nothing. I soon realized I was going faster than I thought I could go at the end of 21. I slowed and waived him on told him I needed a quick drink and walk. He slowed down ahead of me. Somehow I decided the last quarter mile I was going stark raving mad and decided I should pass him and then try to race him. I think he let me win. When I pushed stop on my garmin he asked to see the distance for proof. I got a DANG and he kept on. I really appreciate the help I am usually not social, dehydration will do that to you. I even let out a OH YEAH. for people to hear. I told him I won't believe this when I remember it but I am kind of tired.
I finished up ate some food and rested before I drove home. I didn't feel awful or like my legs were falling apart. Just happy and tired, and glad I got over myself.
So much has happened in the last few weeks. I have had to concentrate on new developments, tragedies of friends and work, I have a hard time feeling like myself. And there is the whole my babies are growing up kindergarten and preschool and this is the last week of mommy and her boys on my days off. Yesterday I felt like me, I miss her.
I am surprised at how well I am doing physically this year. I find I don't know the secret but it's all coming along. It's a good thing, I need it to be my good thing. I am aware my running is starting to be a reason to make fun of me. It's okay really I love that it's becoming the way people associate me and not the chubby girl. I would rather be the crazy runner girl please and thank you if you wonder if it bothers me no, but I have been sharing less and less because I am aware that I am a "freak". I continue to be the happ happ happiest freak I know, jokes on you. :)
Get Over It, by Ok Go (at it to your workout playlist)
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