Milestoned

Yesterday marked the official home stretch: only one month to go before the marathon.  The day before yesterday marked our penultimate long run before the marathon: 21 miles.  And the day before that marked the opening ceremony for the 22nd Winter Olympic Games, which has nothing to do with our marathon training other than to provide a bit of context and inspiration.

Inspiration has been much needed as of late.  I was feeling really burnt out after four months of earnest training.  And then we suddenly found ourselves off-schedule when we both got sidelined by illness.  A fell first and I followed shortly after.  All told, we lost about ten training days, which meant that by last Saturday I hadn’t run long in over two weeks and A was going on almost three.

Starting off Saturday morning, I knew the 21-miler was a Must Do.  We’re both still trying to expel that last little bit of pulmonary phlegm, so we decided to be kind to ourselves and slow down.  Our philosophy was it’s more important to get the mileage in than to keep the pace.

Even with the slower speed, I still lost my resolve around the 10th mile.  I sent A ahead solo, although he stayed in my sightline for a good few miles after that.  I put music on and tried to find that place where imagination doesn’t exist.

Still nagged by negative feedback, I was ready to pack it in after 15.  I took an honest inventory of my body and told myself there was no real reason to quit.  I told myself that walking would hurt more than running and take longer to boot.  I reminded myself that this run was a Must Do, which meant that if I didn’t get ‘er done today, I’d have to do it later this week and all of today’s miles would be for naught.  I threw down a chew and FIDO-ed on.

Talking with a friend about the run afterward, I realized how long 21 miles actually is.  We came across a lot of whacky things on our run: spray-tanning body builders prepping for a competition at the civic center; a clean-up crew along the creek that were either volunteers, convicts, or both; an entire block that reeked of what was either fresh skunk roadkill or fresh skunk weed.

Towards the end of the run, I had moments were I thought I was really jamming.  Then I’d look down at my pace watch and realize, No, no I’m not.  Disappointed, I managed to take heart in the fact that at least I felt alright.  In the end, I ran much slower than I need to come race day, but A reminded me that that was our goal for this run.  He didn’t finish at pace either but was nonplussed.

These next two weeks will be focused on both recovery and getting up to speed, preparing ourselves for our last long run before the race.