Running

I have a love/hate relationship with running.

I love that I am doing it.  It is something I always envied of other people and never thought I would be able to do.  I love that I am achieving goals I never thought possible.  I love how I feel when I get home and can tell Dave, " I just ran ___ Miles!"  That feeling never gets old!

  The things I hate...well...I really don't like running long distances.  I found this out in the last few weekends as the training schedule for the half marathon I'm running dictated a 8 mile, then 10 mile, then 11 mile, then 12 mile, then 9 mile run.  Next week is a 7 miler...we are tapering down to prepare for the race. 

  Let me tell you a little secret...I RUN REALLY SLOW AND I DON'T CARE! 
It's not about how fast I run, to me its about how far I ran.

But....as the distances get longer, my pace get's significantly slower.  So...running 12 miles takes me about 138 minutes, or 2 hours and 18 minutes.  (that's an 11.5 minute mile in case you were wondering...and that's not even the slowest pace I've ever run...) So...while it's awesome to say I ran 12 miles...it's just not that awesome to run for 2 hours and 18 minutes...without stopping.

Anyway, I have done it.  They are done. Completed. It's a moral and physical victory. 

Yesterday we had a 9 mile run.  9 miles is nothing to sneeze at, but it is 3 miles and 33 minutes shorter than 12 miles, so thats a bonus.

BUT....

Yesterday I hit a wall.  I'm serious. Only now do I understand that expression...because although it sounds kinda corny...there are no actual words to describe what happened to me.  It was a mental wall, not physical.  Physically I could have just finished running the last 2 of my 9 miles. Mentally- serious problems.
I don't know why it happened, or what was different but I do know that I'm really glad my running partner was there, or I would still be sobbing by the banks of the canal, and Jaxon would still be at music class!
 
At mile 7 my mind started racing with crazy negative thoughts. About me, about running, about my incapabilities, and mostly about how I was done, and I absolutely COULDN'T GO ON!  I fought it for mile 7.

 During mile 8 I told Sherry we needed to start talking again (talking generally becomes much more sporadic after about mile 7) becuase I was in a really bad place in my head.  So we tried to chat, but I wasn't there mentally, and then...the tears started. 

At The beginning of Mile 9 when we crossed the road and we knew we only had a mile left, that should have really lifted me up. Instead I stopped running and started crying. I was going to sit down by the canal and make Sherry finish running and come pick me up so I could just sit and cry.

CRY!

CRY?

Why on earth was I crying? Why was I telling myself what a stupid, idiotic, non-running slob I was and that I had no business ever trying to run in the first place?  I DON'T KNOW!  Sherry pulled me (literally pulled my arm and wouldn't let go to make me start moving) So for that last mile I cried, and listened as Sherry talked non stop (which she normally does NOT do) to keep my mind occupied.  Several times I just stopped running and she pulled me and made me start again.  Once we got to the car...things started looking normal again. The negative talk in my head stopped, and my body was okay. 

I seriously have no idea what happened out there, but I didn't like it. I am excited to run my half and check it off my Bucket List, but then I think I'm going to stick with 6 and under for a while.

Just sayin'