Accept the Distance

My good friend, Jennie Vee, has a running blog entitled "Respect the Distance." Everytime I read an entry she makes, I wish I had chosen that name for my blog. It is such an appropriate statement for anyone who has ever run any distance. Instead of plagarizing, I decided to entitle my blog entry "Accept the Distance," because it's something I need to do in addition to respecting it. First, let me ask for you to keep what I say in perspective because many of you might roll your eyes or give a good "sheesh" to what I'm about to say. I understand that running 16.01 miles is quite a feat and many will never be crazy enough to choose to run that far. But, this afternoon I was supposed to run 20 as part of my training plan for the New Orleans marathon in five weeks. I didn't make it. At mile 15.5ish, I used a lifeline and phoned a friend. I called Brad, who also was running (no, not with the kids - we hired a babysitter - but he's so superhuman that he'll probably run long with kids someday) and asked him where he was. Surprisingly, he was still out running. He should have been home by then, but he wanted to "add a few miles" to his 20-miler (you may roll eyes and mutter "sheesh" here). I told him my exact coordinates and pleaded with him to find me, because I knew without support I wasn't going to make the last 4.5 miles I had left to run. The pain began around mile 14. It was sudden, surprising and severe. The run was going great. Despite it being a windy day, it was sunny and warm, which made it a great day for winter running. Up until mile 13.9, I felt like I could easily check that 20-miler off my training plan. What happened next is a mystery. Brad blames tired legs, since I have been running a lot and did 17 miles last weekend. But, almost from one step to the next as I crossed the threshold to mile 14, I felt pain everywhere: my lower back, both knees, shins and hips. Every muscle, tendon and ligament joined together and in unison was chanting, "Give in, give up. Just stop." Not being one to ever listen to the blabber coming from my lower half during a run, I decided I would run until mile 16 and then stretch to ensure I could run the last four. About half a mile later, I realized my lower half was winning. That's when I called Brad. Luckily he was nearby and pretty quickly intercepted me at my mile 15.7. I stopped, tears forming, and stretched my legs. I pointed South and suggested we run that direction, away from home, that would take us on a loop that would complete the distance. I took three steps and knew it was over. My legs would carry me no further. Run done. I'm glad Brad was with me, because the walk home would have been that much more miserable and disappointing alone. I cried almost the entire way, until we got to the top of our street. I said, "Brad, I don't care if it's the slowest run I've ever done, but we're running the homestretch. I'm going to make it 16 miles." I added the extra 0.01 for a dramatic ending! I considered adding an extra mile around our block, but when my legs still felt like they were going to collapse beneath me, I knew enough to leave well enough alone. My Mom has always reminded me that I run for fun. You know, in these moments where I take myself too seriously. Like today. So, let me recount what was fun about today's run. My knee-high, pink socks were pretty darn fun (and felt nice), and I'm pretty sure they're the reason I got at least 10 honks and one rocker hand out the window of a passing truck. If you don't know what a rocker hand is, hold out either hand and fold down only your middle and ring finger. Rocker hand. It let me know I was a badass no matter what. Another fun moment was passing a delivery truck with a middle-age man driving early on in my run on one side of town AND THEN passing the same truck and delivery man again late in my run on the other side of town. We were both kind of tickled by that. I got lots of looks, revved engines and honks. Was my running in hot pink socks that much of an attraction? I also had fun running a new route, feeling the sun on my face and having some time to myself to do one of my favorite things. My favorite part of the run was when I met Brad and he made me feel like I had accomplished something quite spectacular, even though defeat was the only feeling I felt. He said all the right things - maybe because he's a runner, too, and he's been there before. But, where the title for the blog comes into play is that I've always been able to complete my runs as written, with the exception of illness. Like when I knew better than to attempt this 20-miler on Saturday, when I woke up with a migraine and sore throat. I gave it a couple of days and went into today's run feeling strong and confident. And, yet I didn't make it. That's where I'm trying to accept the distance I did cover. It's worth something. It adds value to my training program. I'm a better runner for the distance I covered, and the distance I didn't. I still don't know what I'm going to do in New Orleans. Time will tell. But, I'm working on being happy with whatever the outcome and, most importantly, accept the distance!