Today's run marked the end of a week of slacking off. OK, maybe not the absolute end, but an end anyway.
As noted previously, I didn't do the full 11 miles last Saturday, and I had missed the prior Wednesday and Friday runs before that. This last Monday was no winner either. Instead of my planned five, I did two. I haven't gone so short in a couple of months. Some athlete huh?
But today's run was perhaps the hardest run I've had since before the marathon. I was coughing continually, couldn't quite get my breath, and I never felt like I warmed up completely. My IT band syndrome was acting up a bit. It was hard to find my rhythm and I was, in short, in misery.
Maybe it's a psychosomatic thing. I didn't want to run today; I had too much else to do. But out I went, feeling rushed and pressured. I stretched before and after - but perhaps not enough. I didn't do my planned seven either; I looked at the new route (I've recently moved, remember) and decided 6.3 would have to do today.
I nearly quit at 3 miles. I made it up to Prospect Park and got all the way down to the far end when the constant coughing (along with difficulty bringing anything up) took its toll. I began having dry heaves. I quite the run right then, mentally. I actually walked out of the park and headed for the subway. I was within sight of the B train stop when I turned around and walked back into the park. The short walk had helped, I guess.
I walked several times during this run, but I DID finish the run as planned, ticking off every block I passed on the way home.
I was not a happy runner.