The Whole Twelve Miles

Otherwise known as... I Really Am Race Ready!

About a month ago, I twisted my ankle while dancing with my practice partner, Dr. Dance.  I wrote about my experiences dealing with the ankle in Twisted and Single Girl... Hobbling.  I didn't like resting my ankle; ie, not running, not salsa dancing, and I especially didn't like wearing the Brace of Ugliness.

But I did.  Because it made me better.

A couple of weeks ago, after stopping my training regimen for two long weeks, I took a two mile run. 

It felt okay.

I rested for a couple of days, and then took a six mile run.  A couple of days later, I took another six mile run.  And yet another couple of days later, I ran nine whole miles, my longest run since I started training for the half marathon. 

Yesterday, I ran the longest run I have ever attempted:  twelve miles.

When planning the run, I questioned the proper location for my training exercise.  In the end, I decided on My Small Town Lakefront, because there are a number of washrooms along the training path, and I could stop at my car for appropriate water breaks.  There is also a street that jets off from the training path that measures out a half mile path, which when run up and back measures out a mile.  When I started my run, I ran up this particular street, turned around at the half-mile mark, and when I got to the end (or the beginning as the case may be) I did it all over again, completing two miles of my prescribed twelve miles.  I ran to the end of My Small Town Lakefront path, turned around, ran back to the street with the half mile path, did it another two times, and ran to my car, having completed eight miles. 

A good eight miles.  After a quick few gulps of water in maybe thirty seconds, I was ready to run more.  Because I had already completed eight, I was down to 4 miles, which meant that I could just run the lakefront path with no deviations, which is exactly what I did. 

The last couple of miles I was ready for the run to be over, but I finished strong.  In fact, I poured it on during the last quarter mile and actually had enough energy to sprint.

My mom called me during the last mile to check on my progress.  Mom, I am on my last mile.  I'll call you when I'm done.  

Okay, hon.

I did call Mom when I was in my car, and told her I'd be another hour before I could come over to see my cousin Michael and great-Aunt Holly before they embarked on their journey home after spending Christmas with us.  Don't hold breakfast for me.

Don't worry; we already ate.

Good-- I was worried about that.

Sooo.... I drove home, stretched, iced my sore muscles, showered, and soaked in a hot bath.  My aching muscles felt much better after their gentle treatment, and enabled me to mostly be able to walk like a normal person.

Although, I was ravenous.

I drove to my parents' home, inhaled two cinnamon rolls, and confiscated the last piece of Michael's homemade apple pie.

A la mode.

With whipped cream.

Hey, I'd just finished running for two and a half hours.  I could eat whatever I wanted to.

And I did. 

The pie may not have been the most nutritious lunch, but it was amazingly delicious-- especially with its accoutrement. 

Around two o'clock, I went home, after Michael and Aunt Holly left, for my first real downtime in close to a week.  Before yesterday afternoon, I had either been with my parents, GDA, or preparing for Christmas during every waking moment.

It felt amazing to have downtime.  Even more amazing, though, was being secure in the knowledge that even though I had had the twisted ankle setback in my training regiment, in twelve days' time I would be running 13.1 miles, and my body was ready. 

The twisted ankle forced me to slow down at a point when my work life was accelerating tremendously.  Giving it time to heal has helped me to have patience, and drive, to continue. 

Continue I shall.