16.5 mi (Saturday, October 28, 2006)

I'm pretty sure that I've lost most of my objectivity when regarding distance running. For some reason running 16.5 miles doesn't astound me. Yes, many runners traverse much greater distances than that. But THAT fact has nothing to do with THIS fact, I am not a runner, yet.
And I'm not sure I wanna be. I'll tell you this much though, I've gotten to like it quite a bit more since my last masochistic diatribe [I'm coming clean (with dirty language.)] Matter of fact, I've felt really great during some of my runs. But I've got to remember that I can't rush my progress for the simple reason that my body needs time to adjust, acclimate and strengthen.
On Sunday I ran 14.42 miles in 2hours and 25 minutes and at the end of it I was feeling pretty good. I had the mentality that I could possibly bust out 20 before too long if I just kept putting one foot in front of another. Well, as good as I felt I still needed a few days rest but I felt I took too many (three) and in addition to a few other circumstances I felt I needed a good purging. I told myself I would run 15 miles+ and see what would happen.
I set out about 1:30pm and kept a decent pace. Before I knew it my 1 hour and 15 minute lecture on existentialism was over and I was still feeling ambitious. If I was going to do 15 it would only take a small amount more in time than it took me for 14.42. So when I came to my usual turn-around points to start heading back I kept going farther out. At every opportunity I took the longer distance. Having never "run out of gas" before I felt there wasn't really any distance I couldn't manage if I simply kept a good pace, refueled and hydrated.
I'd say I started to struggle pretty hard at mile 12. The pain in my hips, the anterior (outside) of my knees and ankles had started to become real. In addition to this my gluts, hammies, quads and calves began to give me signals of trouble. By mile 14 I had filled up my water bottle 4 times, ate two Cliff Shots, five Jelly Belly Sport Beanz, two shallow pockets full of salted pretzels and some nutrition bar but I felt I was getting scarily close to empty. And yet I felt that the "one foot in front of the other" philosophy would take me home without any worry.
Well, I had had to stop a few times to stretch out my back side but by mile 15.5 I was walking. I was humbled. My muscles were just shot. I would have about 30 seconds of inspiration, cursing at myself, praising myself, shouting out to Jesus to get me home, talking to my feet to not let me down... and then I would pay for it dearly with every muscle and joint below my belt screaming at me including my testicles, (poor bouncing motherfuckers keeping time for miles and miles.)_I don't exaggerate when I say that the last three to five blocks were scary. I really didn't know if it was physically possible for me to make it back to my apartment by myself. Through God's grace, a lot of swearing, singing songs about my foolishness and the pain to come I made it back crashing promptly to the floor of my living room. I thank God that Carrie, Tony's fiancé was there to get me my Gatorade, pretzels, snacks, and to rub my calves to keep them from cramping. My body was covered in salt from so much perspiration. I mean, I felt granularly all over.
It was at that point that I finally looked at a clock and saw that it read 5:30pm. I had been out for four hours and running something like three and a half. But the unfortunate part was that I was due at work at 5pm. I had completely lost track of time. I don't know what I was thinking. Well, I do and it sure as hell wasn't about time. It was pretty much about survival. I was so focused. The rest of the night and into today I've been worried that I haven't been refueling well enough resulting in me eating a lot.
It's a funny feeling for a chubby guy to "need" to eat to fuel my body. I'm used to eating out of desire, gluttony or plain oral fixation. Needing to specifically refuel and strategically consume is very foreign to me. In the past when I've been hungry my reaction is, "hey fatso, you don't 'need' to eat anything right now. You've got plenty to burn around your midsection." But now it's different and it's taking some adjusting. My body is burning so much it astounds me. On a 14-16 mile run I can burn 2200-2500 calories. For a healthy diet the nationally suggested daily consumption is 2000 calories. So you can see how I might be concerned about getting my nutrients.
I think part of my loss of objectivity is that I'm currently reading a great book about Dean Karnazes, an Ultra-Marathoner who runs 100 milers all the time. The tales are so inspiring that I feel like I could sneeze off a paltry 15 no prob (In all fairness to myself, I COULD have done 15 and been quite alright. But that last 1.5 of the 16.5 nearly killed me.) Dean looks straight into it and preservers. Pain and everything are there but he keeps on. It's good stuff, but I gotta stick to my training schedule.
I plan to run a lot between 5 and 10 miles. This will build up a solid base for me to build further upon. I don't think I'll do another 15 miler till Dec. but I'll have to see. I might get arrogant again. I mean, who am I kidding, I post these stupid updates all the time. It's true, I only do it when I achieve a personal best, but I really enjoy the kudos and encouragement. I'm kind of a whore about it. I drop my latest distances all over at work. I can't help it, it's gotten under my skin and I like it. It's a good feeling to make progress. And I suppose it's the only area in my life where I feel like progress is being made. And perhaps that is the reason I wanted to take it too far too fast.