I'm at the end of my second week of official half-marathon training. It's gotten a little tricky, seeing as how I started work for Close Up on Sunday and didn't finish until 11:30 Thursday night. I did sneak in Tuesday's two mile run on Wednesday since I got the evening off, but skipped Thursday's two and a half. And last Saturday, I counted kayaking in place of my three mile run since it certainly outstripped running three miles, effort-wise.
Not so much on the preparing me to run four miles front though. Today's run was ugly.
There was being ill-prepared. And probably under-hydrated. And just extremely tired from the whole working fourteen hours a day on program bit. And then we got up early on Friday and went whitewater rafting (though, honestly, we spent the bulk of the time floating more so than paddling). And my route was hilly and I haven't run more than two and a half miles outside in a few months.
But there's also just the way that sometimes, you have a bad running day. Katie explained that to me last summer when we went together to Rock Creek Park to run seven or eight miles and ran perhaps three or four, with significant walk breaks, due to my inability to, you know...run...that day. I apologized a lot of times and she told me not to worry about it. Bad running day is all. Next time will be better.
Which is what I was telling myself as I walked up the one long hill after realizing that my body had gotten so uncooperative as to make my running form resemble that of Phoebe Buffay. And when I stopped at the halfway point to bend over and hack up goo. (Yeah, while the sinus surgery has been tremendously helpful for day to day life, the running-related snot situation is improved by maybe 10%. At best.) And when my calves completely cramped up and I had to stop to stretch.
It was at that exact moment that the Glee kids musically commanded, "DON'T STOP!" I had some unfriendly thoughts toward them. The same way that, when I was running uphill on Wednesday and Bono sang, "Yes, I'm still running!" my thoughts ran along the lines of "No, I'M RUNNING, you pastel-glasses-wearing freak." I'm what you might call a little bit of an angry runner.
I won't get any evenings off this week, so I likely won't run again until Thursday. And then I'll do my damndest to run five miles next Saturday. In the meantime, lots of hydrating, no whitewater rafting. Check, check.
In other news, Raj bought us a dining set that's more fitting to our humble apartment abode than the gorgeous castle-worthy set I showed you last time. (Raj will learn that this photo exists when he reads this post. Hi Raj! Sorry about the poor photo quality. I like the table!)
The better to drink two bottles of champagne at while playing Trivial Pursuit the night before attempting to run four miles. Yeah, there was that too. Next Friday night, no more than half a bottle of champagne for me. Check.