18 miles! 18 miles!!
I'm sitting here with ice packs on my left shin, left knee, and right ankle contemplating the success level of this run. Part of me can't quite believe I actually finished 18 miles, much less did it in, apparently, a mere 3 hours 30 minutes. For the amount of pain I'm in -- and was in most of the time -- it seems unlikely that I did this run without walking, yet that's what happened.
Prep:
I mixed up the last of my HEED and filled all my fuel-belt bottles, in addition to two quart-size jugs. I also filled two gel flasks with a mix of orange, vanilla, and plain Hammer Gel, which I simply think of as tolerable-tasting miracle goop. I did a brief warm-up run, visited the bathroom, and spent several minutes stretching. I'd done my therapy already and had Spiriva, too, so I wasn't too worried about my lungs. I was most concerned about my left tibial shin splint, which has not gone away, though it's less severe than before. Today it was aching before the run and I didn't take ibuprofen until I was leaving. So, basically, I was in some pain there the entire time.
I left one jug of HEED at the house and carried the other with me up to the park, at a run. THAT was a workout! I was carrying eight pounds of fluid and fuel and that makes a difference. I got up to the park and right off found a great place to stash the quart of HEED and one of the goop flasks: a hollow in a tree about six feet up where a branch had broken out long ago. I took off on the counter-clockwise loop.
This run didn't have a lot of highs and lows. It was one long long long steady challenge. My injury continually hurt, though the ibuprofen helped some and avoiding sudden twists and turns also helped. Towards about the time I completed three laps and realized I had "only" seven miles to go, my ankles started to add their voice to the protest and by the last lap, my knees were contributing some harmony into the composition as well.
This affected me mentally, but not much. I made the decision to run 18 miles; I knew my route, I did not vary from it, and no way in hell was a little pain going to stop me. Mentally, I was prepared for this run and potentially even more. And I'm glad, because it's going to take a similar attitude to make it through the marathon, I think.
The weather was spot-on perfect for a long run. Clear and cool, with a light breeze. I only walked twice on this run and neither time for any more than 50 yards. The first time was when some sudden twinges in the fourth lap sprang up. THAT will make me slow down!! The second time was when exiting the park, after I'd grabbed the now 2/3-full jug of HEED and was guzzling about half that down before tossing the jug into a trash can. Then I picked it up and ran most of the way down the hill to home.
I fueled and hydrated on a planned schedule throughout the run; taking hits of goop at least twice per lap and drinking at least four times per lap, with the goal to use up my belt bottles before I left the park, supplemented by long pulls on the quart-jug as I passed the tree. (I only did that once, actually, as I stopped to change directions and stretch.) As I emptied the little bottles, I tossed them. (I'd been noticing a build-up of some black growth in the bottles and caps that I couldn't clean out. I'll get some new ones and be more careful about washing them immediately after a run.) Due to this careful fueling and hydration, my energy level stayed constant the whole run, if not fantastically high. But I never hit any real lows; though I did notice that my coughing fits took more and more out of me.
Oddly enough, at 16.5 miles, most of my pain went away. This scared me, as perhaps this is the fabled special-endorphins release that makes death a less terrible experience. Ah, but no such sweet release was to come to me.
I had decided to run down to fifth avenue and walk the final block down to my house, as a way of cooling down before stretching. Halfway down, this run's reward presented itself: sitting on the sidewalk was an old Coleman gas grill, which I'd noticed on the way up and had thought it was a little early to set out for trash. Now it had big signs taped to it: "Works fine; just needs new hoses." Huh. Well, hell, why not? I thought. So I wheeled the thing home. I figure I'll give it a good cleaning and inspection and order the new hoses and get a propane tank and try it out. The worst that happens is I'm out the money of some hoses. Best case, I've got myself a grill that's a lot more pleasant to cook on than the charcoal grill I've already got. Maybe now I'll start doing some more barbecue, which I love, but just hate dealing with the charcoal and ashes all the time.
I'm considering a nap, then a shower and going to see a movie this evening. There's no way in hell I'm going to Central Park at 8 a.m. for a race tomorrow, though maybe I'll go to pick up the t-shirt and cheer the rest of the pack on.
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