Half Marathon Training Week Five, Day Three (6 mile run)
Before you scratch your head and raise an eyebrow... I did not type that incorrectly. Take a moment, kids. Because I am going to introduce you to the run from hell. There aren't even pictures because it's still a little too fresh to think about, and it would just be pictures of me crying like a baby. Instead, it's just going to be a long, drawn out story. But I promise if you make it through, you will be rewarded with shiny pictures of pretty things. You're welcome.
You know how sometimes you feel like the universe is sending you a message? And if you're smart, you listen to it... and if you're a moron, you pretend it's not happening? Well, today I was a moron. My alarm went off at 5:30 am so that I could run a beastly 6 miles (marathoners... STFU) and I hit snooze. Twice. Sign from the universe #1. Finally got myself out of bed and was quite pleased with myself for planning ahead (read: knowing I'd be lazy and grumpy in the morning) because I had laid out my running clothes and all my gear last night, so I'd be ready to go. Made myself some Cytomax, shoved a banana in my mouth, and was out the door by 6:15 am. The sun wasn't even up yet and it was already far hotter than I wanted to run in. Sign from the universe #2. I turn on my Garmin and am all ready to take off when I realize I've forgotten my phone, despite my ability to have it constantly by my side. Sign from the universe #3. Waver momentarily and then go back inside to get it. Then wait 5 (no kidding) minutes for my Garmin to locate the satellites, despite a PERFECTLY CLEAR blue sky. That's right, kids... four signs of trouble from the universe that I ignored.
Which is why I met the run from hell. It started innocently enough. I was psyched to get a nice trail run in, and thought maybe that with the distance I needed for today, I'd be able to run the entire loop - normally I run halfway and turn around on the trail because it's pretty long. I felt pretty proud when I kept running after my normal turn-around spot... until I realized what I'd been missing. Suddenly, the trail went from packed dirt to pure rocks. On a steep downhill. My pace took a nosedive because I wasn't even running anymore, I was just trying to stay upright. Then came a massive uphill, with the sun in my eyes. And then the trail shrunk to less than a foot wide, and completely ungroomed. But I kept going... running along fat, dumb, and happy in the sunshine.
At mile 3, I remembered why I had been leaving my beloved Asics Gel-Phoenix 3s at home, and a delightful blister started to throb on my left arch. About halfway through the third mile, I apparently made a horrible mistake in choosing which path to take... my choices were to continue on the relatively flat path I was on, or to take a steep uphill that looked never ending. It seemed like an easy decision until I got to what I am now affectionately referring to as the Gulch of Death, where I fell down a rocky path for a few feet, considered calling my mom, and then realized that she'd never be able to find me. Not to be overly dramatic, but for a split second, I actually thought I was going to die in that damn gulch. I didn't though (obviously) and I kept running for quite a while, despite twisting my left ankle three separate times, and even when the trail took me off the actual mountain and onto some weird path. And then I dead-ended at barbed wire. As fun as this all was, this is when I called my mommy bawling my eyes out and had her come get me. At that point, I was about 5 miles from my house... but only if you go across the mountain. If I'd tried to get home on foot, I would have had to run on a highway, and it would have probably taken me about 3 hours. Or I could have ventured back into the Gulch of Death. Really, great choices either way.
So that was my run. And I didn't even get all 6 miles, which I'm bitter as hell about, let's be honest. Buuut... I have to be positive or something like that so... tomorrow is a new day and the start to a new week and I can get my 6 mile run in next weekend. After I go to a running store and get shoes that don't make me want to cry after I hit 3 miles. Shockingly, I skipped my TurboFire workout after that adventure... actually, I skipped almost everything. I got home, cried on my couch some more (it was scary!), iced my legs and my twisted ankle, drank some water, and went back to bed. After that, anything productive sounded super unappealing, and I didn't do it. My biggest accomplishment of the day aside from living through that run was making a smoothie. Woo! I am impressive.
In other, much less dramatic news, I finally connected my memory card to my computer, so I have pictures! One of them I will wait to share with you until tomorrow (or Triple Tangent Tuesday!), but if you actually made it through my epic story, then you deserve a prize. So, here are some pictures from my trip to California. A month ago. I am a quick one.
The beginning of Dan ruining pictures. Though my face is not exactly making this Christmas card worthy.
MY FIRST TRIP TO YOGURTLAND! I was hoping they'd have Root Beer Float flavor, but alas... had to settle for cinnamon. Clearly I'm broken up.
Pretending to throw up after I took him on a rollercoaster. He loves me.
Typical. Thanks Dan.
Now aren't you glad you stuck with me through the epic story? No? Oh. Um... my bad!