The Agony and the Ecstasy Part 1

Otherwise known as Using My Legs to Their Fullest Potential...

Yesterday morning I woke up with a minor feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.  (Never a good way to wake up.)  Linette was scheduled to come over at 8 a.m., and we were to drive to the Bigger Town Next to My Small Town to park her car, and run eight miles... all... the... way.... home.  I drank a couple small glasses of yummy Bolthouse Farms mochaccino protein shake, and had a spoonful of peanut butter.  The feeling in the pit of my stomach increased.

Before I go on long training runs I get a huge case of the What Ifs:
1.  What if I have to go to the washroom?
2.  What if I get thirsty?
3.  What if I really can't go on?

Be assured there are other What Ifs, but they are too embarrassing and paranoid to commit to print.

What If #1 is really the biggest fear for me.  It's not so bad when I'm on the Small Town Lakefront trail, because there are washrooms every couple of miles, but when running from the Bigger Town to My Small Town, the only washroom to be had is a Shell Station.... and who knows if the proprietor would give relief to a hapless runner without a penny on her sweaty, nasty body?

As for What If #2... Getting thirsty is an issue... Again, the lakefront offers water fountains.  They aren't the nicest water fountains on the planet, but they get the job done.  I think for next week's run, I'm going to have to find someone to meet me halfway in order to rehydrate mid-run.  It's not healthy to go so long without water when expelling so much energy.  Pre-run, I skate the delicate balance between drinking enough to hydrate my body, and not drinking so much that I need a washroom. It's not easy, I tell you.

What If #3 is just plain crazy talk.  Of course I can finish.  Yesterday morning before we started, Linette looked at me and declared, Jen, I KNOW I can run home.  She was so confident, it helped me to have confidence in myself. 

After finding a suitable parking spot and checking in on Facebook, which has become a medium that both keeps us honest in our endeavors and supported by our friends at the same time, we set off.  We did not plan to stay together the entire run.  I embrace the run-the-whole-time-at-a-steady-pace philosophy and Linette stops periodically to walk for a bit before picking up the pace again.  In truth, I am afraid that if I allow my legs to slow down to a walk, it would be even harder to increase the pace again.

Slow and steady gets the job done. 

We stayed together for the first mile, and then I took off.  I had great music courtesy of iTunes, and running the distance on a trail I hadn't taken before (at least not the first half of the run, anyway, the second half was my course from last week's seven-mile jaunt) helped to propel my feet along. We were blessed with a great breeze.  As we started, I looked at Linette.  I love the breeze! 

Yeah, but I wish it was behind us. 

I liked the wind against my face.  It helped to crystallize the sweat, which kept it from running down my forehead into my eyes.  Eyes smarting from salty sweat is not a good feeling.  That said, I knew what Linette meant:  It would have been nice if the wind was kind pushing us along a bit, but it wasn't so strong that it made the route more difficult.

I listened to a driving playlist on my iPod, put one foot in front of the other, and breathed.  My calves hurt... if it weren't for my calves, the last couple of miles wouldn't have been nearly so arduous.  The time it took from when my house came into view and when I stepped foot onto the driveway felt like eons.  In actuality it was maybe three minutes.

A very long three minutes when one has been running for over an hour and a half. 

I threw my arms up in triumph when I got to the driveway, went inside to get water, walked outside to start stretching-- and to keep watch for Linette.  When I saw her running up, I started hooting and hollering.  It's such a great feeling to cheer on my friend!  She stretched, I iced my calves per instructions from my favorite massage therapist, and when we were ready we took my car the eight miles back to her car.  While we were driving back to Our Small Town in our cars along the same path we had just run, I received a text:

This really is a long way.

YES!

It was long, but we did it, separate but together.  We had each other's support, coupled with the knowledge that in six weeks we'll be in running 13.1 miles.  Pushing through the pain, digging deep, and using our legs to their fullest potential... and then some. 


Addendum:  The author has full intention to write the second part of The Agony and the Ecstasy later today.  For now, she must shower and meet her good friend Joe for their monthly breakfast.