Little Victories

When I started running in earnest, four years ago, every mile I ran was an accomplishment. I remember bragging to my family when we sat down to dinner:

"Hey, guess what? I ran 3 miles today!"

Or,

"I went running in the snow today!"

or, even,

"I ran 5 miles before 9 AM this morning!"

The family would cheer, or humor me with praises of my accomplishments. Back then, just getting out the door and doing a run, no matter the length, meant that I had really done something worthwhile -- for myself -- that day. It took me away from the ordinariness of my minivan life. I had become a characture of a suburban mom: schlepping the kids, PTO president, volunteer. Running gave me the sense of exhilaration that had been missing from my days. Just finishing a run was enough.

Then I started racing. I became a slave to training schedules. I learned about speedwork, hillwork, fartleks. Anerobic and Aerobic workouts. A 3 mile workout became "only 3 miles". The distance I ran grew farther. I ran and finished two marathons. Along the way, I tried races of different distances: 5k, 10k, 15K, Half-Marathon, triathlon.

I bought a watch. Then I bought a heartrate monitor. Now I am the proud owner of a Garmin 305. The information it gives me is infinite and relentless. Now, I am all about how fast I am. It has become harder and harder to find that sense of accomplishment on my daily runs. The runs are now planned both as to pace and to distance.

Today's run was difficult. I ran 8 miles yesterday and it included 8X800 repeats so it was a tough run. The schedule for today said 5 miles and I wanted to make it a recovery run. My legs were still tired from yesterday. The day didn't start out well, and it wasn't looking good for the run. My husband's car had a flat tire so he traded cars with me. That meant that I had to deal with the flat. I cancelled my workout and took care of the tire, but the kids, who are on Spring Break, have a full schedule. Plus, it's still cold here with some gusting winds. I knew I had to do this run but I was beginning to think it was going to be on the treadmill.

Around 1:00 I realized I could squeeze it in if I went out the door NOW. But I was cold. My tights didn't seem to be enough. I pulled on a pair of windbreaker sweatpants on top of the tights and wore a jacket on top of everything else I had on top. I resembled an Eskimo.

I hate recovery runs. They are slow. A slow run takes a long time. I felt like a snail. I was a snail making swish, swish sounds with every footfall because of all the nylon I was wearing. Jess said in her blog that recovery runs feel like "a massage for the legs." I kept waiting for the massage feeling. I waited. I ran. I swished. It never happened.

At the 2.5 mile point I came to a fork. If I went left, I would go home the back way. That was my plan, but I realized it would leave me well short of 5 miles. If I went right, it would take me back through the neighborhood and would be boring. But I could stretch it out to 5. I turned right. I won the first mental challange.

At 4 miles I realized that I would still be short. Should I turn left and run down the most boring, flat, treeless cul-de-sac of the course so that I could assure myself another .4 miles? I did it. I turned left. I stretched it out. I made it to 5 miles. It took 59:35.

I realized as I ran, that now I could no longer sustain my self with simply running. I had to occasionally overcome adversity in the run itself. I've said before, but it's true, that often I am my only obstacle. Is it true that running is 90% mental and 10% physical? I can't answer that because today, the physical was as difficult as the mental. But, I'm happy with the outcome of the mental aspect of this run. I made the choices to turn right and left. I stretched a run to 5 miles when I was ready to go home at 2.5. That was my accomplishment today.

Oh, yes, splits. Well, it was a recovery run after all. It's supposed to be slow:

Mile 1 11:27
Mile 2 11:18
Mile 3 11:45
Mile 4 11:46
Mile 5 12:03

Torture. Every one.