The Long Run Bust
Since the Beast and I are headed to Lexington this evening to visit our alma maters for the weekend I decided to do my long run on Friday. After sleeping in, I ate a little something, waited for some bowel movement to occur then headed out.
I didn’t know what I was in for.
The first 4-5 miles went really well. My pace was getting faster by 2-5 seconds so I was pleased. I spent this portion listening to a book on tape which helps me not go out of the gate too fast. When I stopped to get water at the end of this segment
The first bad sign happened here. I had brought along my last salted caramel gu to eat for my last 4 miles. I checked my pocket and it had somehow fallen out. I wasn’t that upset and figured it would suck but I could manage.
During the next 3.5 miles my thigh started to burn. Not the muscle, the skin. And when I stopped at the turnaround to check it out I noticed my wonderful life saving CW-X tights were going bare right on that spot of my leg. I was already chafing and bleeding just a little bit. I asked some construction workers for duct tape to hold my pants together. This solution lasted until about half way through mile 9.
The duct tape came off and wouldn’t stick and the chafing hurt so bad that I had to hold the material together. By this point there was a hole bigger than my fist in my pants. I tried to run and was overcome with a burning sensation. I decided to try a walk run but even that failed and I succumbed to as fast a walk as I could handle while essentially holding my crotch material together.
Then my phone died. The last two miles would be in silence. No music, no texting to help me through the walk. I was alone.
With a mile left to go the cramping started and it took every ounce of my will power to continue walking. I wanted to stop but there was no other way to get home and I needed to not be on my feet anymore. I dragged on.
When I finally made it home I grabbed the jug of chocolate milk, peeled off my clothes, and immediately sunk into a nice hot bath. The sweat and pain began to leak out into the hot water and I began to feel like a human being again.
Today was a test of my mental power and what I was made out of. Without the pant rip I would have been on pace at about a 12 minute pace, which is about on par for what I should be doing during the Richmond half in a couple weeks. But the pants rip happened. And I had to hobble home.
I am at least thankful that my pants ripped today and not two weeks from now. I have plenty of time to buy new pants (which I already did) and it proved that I can do it. Despite a less than perfect training cycle with lots of excuses and reasons for not sticking to my plan, I am worthy of competing in the Richmond half. Will I PR? Probably not. But maybe that’s not always the point of running a race.