Best. Run. Ever.

I'm in this crazy no-man's land of 1) not having a training plan, 2) or a running group and 3) waiting for my beginner's triathlon orientation so that I can get #1 and 2.

So I've kinda been winging it during the week, and my Saturday long-runs have alternated 6-8-10 miles, except usually it was more like 6-8-6-8-10-6-8-6 etc. With Bex having to literally plead with me to GET OUT the door last week.

So, to forestall any problems getting my ass in gear Saturday, Friday night I wrote to my good friend DC Spinster, who is the HEAD COACH for the uniquely named Reebok Wirefly National Half Marathon program (powered by D.C. Road Runners) and asked if I could run with one of his training groups Saturday morning--the slow group, whose coach I knew from the DCRR 10-mile program—sort of as a trial even though I kind of already knew I wouldn't be officially joining.

He said sure, so I left home at 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning, in order to allow plenty of time to get lost in Arlington. The group met at 8:00 and at 8:05 after driving all over creation, I had totally given up ever finding them, when I stumbled across the group just as just as they were leaving Gotta Run, the meet-up place.

I rolled down my car window and shrieked at coach J that, like the second coming, I was here! She tried to yell back the route directions: "Past the monument! Over the bridge! On to the Mall!" Which was terrific, except? There are 10,000 monuments in this city, I had no idea where I was, and there are what, four bridges?

Could I possibly catch them??

My tires screeched as I rounded the corner and pulled into a parking place. I tossed off my eight layers of outerwear and grabbed a water bottle.

Well bless my stars and garters. As a ran out of the parking lot, I saw that Coach J. had held up the entire group just for MOI!!

No turning back now!

The "slow" group was running 8 miles (perfect, see above) on a route that went by the Pentagon, over the Memorial Bridge, on to the National Mall, and back. It was a cold, crisp, gray day, slight wind, perfect for running. I love running over the Potomac River on days like this. It's peaceful at that time of the morning, you can see flocks of Canadian geese heading ... somewhere. And you feel so ... noble, with the city at your feet.

We soon separated into two groups, and then into three. I hung in there, repeating to all who would listen, "um, this is my 5k pace, people!" To which Coach J. replied, "Well, now it's your 1/2 marathon pace!"

The last two miles were tough. By now there were three people in my group, and I was hanging on for dear life to the other two runners. They knew i was struggling, but promised not to leave me because they also knew I'd never find my way back. Soon, I was dead last. I was dying. I held on to one thought: You have no money and no phone and no idea where the hell you are going. Follow those girls!

I made it back, after a final 25-yard sprint (egged on by Coach J.) in 1:25. That's an average 10:38 min. mile.

Now I know it must seem like I've forever bragging in this here little blog (well, except when I'm moaning and complaining) but: DAMN!!! I'm an 11:30 min. miler-girl! No, seriously!

Apparently, there is nothing like naked fear to speed you up. And running with a group and talking. Cuz before you know it, you're almost done and you haven't, um, actually died.

When I run long by myself? I am la-de-dah out for a stroll.

The longer the distance, the more my pace curls up into the fetal position and takes a nap.

If you want an eight mile tempo run, run with a group that is faster than you are and make sure you have no idea how to get back to the start.

That is how you do that!

Struggling

I am over my cold. Now it's become a sinus infection with what I like to call the "loose-brain headache" syndrome: you bend over and your brains slosh around in your head.

I'm so thankful for this long weekend, cuz I don't think I could face work at the moment.

I am struggling with my running. I don't know why. Two Saturdays ago, I ran a slooow eight miles, and at the time, you were all happy enough to join me in blaming the heat.

Last Tuesday, I ran three miles at about an 11 min mile pace, a definite slowdown for me, and then came down with a bad cold, which put more running on hold last week.

Just this past Saturday I ran 10 miles with my group, in 2:12 (13:12 min mile). My cold had dissipated somewhat, but I was still coughing. I felt OK on the run though—except for the fact that I kept walking for no apparent reason. And the weather was perfect: crisp, cool, fall-like. I would run and then just start walking. I honestly don't know why.

The first time I had ever run 10 miles was in the 2006 Cherry Blossom 10 miler and I ran it in 1:57. I think my longest run had been 7 miles up til then.

Today, Labor Day, I went out to redeem myself. I slept a good 10 hours last night, and got up to run 6 miles. I was feeling nervous. I used every piece of self-talk and pep talk and advice I have ever read or given, or been given! My head hurt before I started, but I just told myself I could quit anytime if it got worse.

So, my headache didn't get worse. But by 2.5 miles, I was seriously thinking of quitting. I tried to just calm down and continued on, because? NOTHING HURT. Just slow down I told myself. I even had a nice Alexander McCall Smith book on the Nano. I made 3 miles in 33 miles, slow but still respectable:
10:56
11:06
11:09

and then I honestly don't know what happened. I'd be running along, listening to my book, and trying hard not to think because thinking was doing me no good, and all of a sudden I would just find myself walking.

The weather was glorious, I had nowhere to be. No pressures.

Mile 6 you can see I just totally gave up.
14:47
14:00
18:24

This is not like me.

That's four runs in a row that have been really really disappointing. I can blame the heat on the crappy eight mile run, I can blame my cold, and I can blame my headache, but frankly, I'm running out of excuses. It's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to lace up. I start out with trepidation, but push those thoughts out of my head and FOCUS on the positive ("at least you are trying, you could totally give up, you walk slower than this, enjoy your book, enjoy nature," etc.) but it doesn't seem to help.

Something mental is going on. I don't know what it is. I just know I feel like a nervous wreck when I'm on the trail, and I spend the whole time trying not to walk. "Just go slow," I tell myself. "Forget about time!"

I think I should start back at trying to run one mile. And here I am supposed to be at 10! I was going to try for the Philly half marathon in two weeks, but have bagged that idea since I think it will make me feel worse if I end up walking half of it (plus it's Number One Daughter's senior breakfast that morning, so I have a built-in excuse).

So yes, there are many worse problems in the world, many many many worse problems. But I really did think I was getting better, and now, I've definitely gotten worse.

I'll keep plugging away, but my confidence level is: LOW.

In happier news, a shoutout to my pal Peter, who ran the Charm City Run 20 miler yesterday, and ... Well, I don't want to steal his thunder so I'll let him tell you all about it.

UPDATE: Another shoutout to my peep Phoenix, who just DISMANTLED her first Oly, The Lake St. Louis Long Course (Oly distance) triathlon! Go, read, be inspired!