Well, something is just not right.
Twelve miles this morning was ... no problem-o. I can't explain it, and it's starting to freak me out.
It was hot, as I think I might have alluded to in my previous post. So our runs were adjusted down by two minutes, one minute? I forget which. Plus our ratio was adjusted as well. Very very fine decision-making by some mighty fine coaches. So instead of run 3/walk 1, we did run 2/walk 1 (I'm talking minutes here people, not miles). Which literally made the whole thing like a walk in the park (ha ha it actually was in a park for most of the way.)
I swear I barely notice I'm running while I'm running. Or, maybe this is more like childbirth than I thought: Maybe I bitched and moaned the whole way, and then promptly forgot about it once it ended. Dunno. You'd have to ask Miz M, my running companion.
I suppose it is possible that my feeling ok was in fact due to being mightily prepared to take on whatever d.c. had to throw at me. After all, when last I left you all, I was in fine fettle, freaking out. So, 1) I brought lots of gu, and other yummy gels, and a gatorade-like concoction (which I carried handily in an empty AleveTM bottle, thereby giving one water guy near apoplexy as he saw me empty a white, powdered substance into my water. And b) (apologies to Tom Magliozzi) I had in fact run the famous four miles without walking not once but twice earlier in the week. While iii) I had also doused myself with a gazillion gallons of water last week, plus slept and ate reasonably well.
So maybe, just maybe, I felt ok because I was prepared?? I don't know. I know I hurt now (not a lot, just enough to remind me that I actually did it), but FOR GOD'S SAKE, how many miles is it going to take for me to believe that I am really running this???
The six miles out was ok, although I peed my pants again after the first two minutes out, so ducked into a McDonalds to, um, tidy up. (Don't worry, I was already wearing something to um, make sure that I'd be as dry as dust—isn't it fun when I speak in cryptic allusions?) Anywho, The Divine Miz M was with me again, and we just did our thing. Run two minutes, walk one. For six miles. This took us, for those keeping track, TWO MILES PAST LAST WEEK!! Which was cool. We finally made it to the Capital Crescent Trail, which runs from Georgetown through suburban Maryland, for many, many miles, through East Bumfudge to West Virginia. It's a beautiful trail, lush and green in the summer, paved, very very busy. We ran one mile up the trail, then it was time to turn and run the six miles back.
We took a few breaks, but why not? And why do I feel compelled to tell you that? Time does so not matter. One longish water break on the way back, while water guy and I joked about the "steroids" I was dumping into my water; another longish eat gu break, a longish bathroom break, but I just turned the watch off each time. I am so over worrying about time (2:48 was what I came up with, exactly 14 min miles—not that it matters). DMM had a bit longer on her watch, 3 something, but I prefer my time, so am sticking to it.
And, for those of you keeping track, M. Paris was spotted on the trail running toward us! So he is flesh and blood after all. And yes, he did recognize me. Another moment in sports history.
Six miles back flew by (well, in my head they flew). There were a lot of tourists afoot by the time we were one mile out from home base. They were just a wee bit annoying, but they are D.C.'s bread and butter, after all. Even if I did want to hurt them.
So I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't possibly run 12 miles and just carry on like the earth didn't just change its axis.
Just wait til it's 14 miles (two weeks). Now that's gonna be impossible.