Coming into this week, I was pretty beat up. Evidenced by the fact that after my Sunday long run, I immediately made an appointment for a massage the following day. Now when I say massage, I really mean pummeling. Like with a meat tenderizing mallet outcome. But it was so needed, and I think my legs eventually started speaking to me again. Aside from being a bit gimpy this week, my mind and spirit really took a hit. I faced head on some of the realities of this new life I’m building. It’s hard when your emotions come blazing full throttle – when no amount of support from friends or comfort from mom can make things right. It’s not easy to run repeats when you feel like crawling into bed. The one thing that kept me going was my commitment to my goal and myself. It may sound stupid, but writing the numbers into my training log was a sense of accomplishment and one true proud thing that I could hold onto this week.
Monday – 6 easy. And then the sweet sweet agony of a very small woman yielding her special jedi-like powers over my helpless limbs. And then an ice bath. Oh lordy did that feel delicious!
Tuesday- OFF. As recommended by my massage lady, because I was having trouble not being sore.
Wednesday- 3 easy miles in the AM with the XC team and puppy Geno. (her stage name is Ge-NO! … guess why…). Later in the day I did 10 with 6 * mile in the 640s.
Thursday – 7 miles. Possibly the slowest miles I have ever run. Not kidding. At no point did I hit single digit pace and I’m pretty sure I could have walked faster.
Friday – 10 miles with 9 at marathon pace – thanks to some confidence from a Salty reader last week, I’m upping these by about 10-15 seconds per mile. Feeling good so far… but a test field of ONE isn’t super valid.
Saturday- 6 miles. Its hot here in the south. Hot and disgusting and soupy and did I say disgusting? So today I ran to the pool, ran in the pool and then ran home.
Sunday – 20 miles. Yikes. Thanks to a good friend for running the first chunk, but you know that when you are only an hour in and your shoes are squishy and your shirt is dripping, its going to be a long (pun intended) run. But I got it done. And I didn’t keel over. And I haven’t even felt the overwhelming urge to A: eat the rest of the pan of brownies sitting on my counter or B: dive onto the couch for a nap. That’s called #winning.
Total: 62 miles.