The Bad Run

What a relief, I had a bad run.

Since I started running two months ago, after recovery from a foot injury, I've been waiting for a bad run, that one bad run where everything goes wrong and you've got to convince yourself not walk – not for an obvious reason like pain but rather because something mentally is telling you, you can't run.

I woke up early on Saturday morning, ready to face my step-back long run of 5 miles, thinking, "Five miles, not a problem, I can pop that off in under an hour." Since there was still an hour until sunrise, I decided to wait out that hour and leave when it was light outside.

I putzed around and slowly gathered my stuff together, finally got dressed about an hour after waking up and took off for the five-miler. However, within 10 steps of starting to run, I realized something was wrong. I felt sluggish and just as quickly realized the problem; I had forgotten to eat my banana or even drink a glass of water this morning. I was running on yesterday's energy tank!

I toyed with the idea of turning around, going back home, getting a banana and proper hydration but I knew that as soon as I got home it would have been hard to convince myself to come back out. If this was to be the bad run, I might as well suck it up and get it over with so I could stop wondering when it would hit.

The two hills in the first mile of my normal five mile route were a struggle, much more than usual and they sent my heart rate way up. As I gasped for air and felt my heart try to jump out through my ears, I started getting scared. What if I can't make it? I know this is the bad run but what if it becomes the run to end all runs. Forget having to walk for part of it, what if I can't…just can't…finish the run.

As I tried to recover from the hills, I told myself, all I need to do is make it to that straight away by that pretty house that marks 2 miles. I was running on fear as opposed to actual, real energy so I didn't dare look at my watch to see my distance or my pace; I just focused on the next landmark.

As I hit that stretch of the trail that meant I was 2 miles in to the run, I started telling myself, "all I have to do is make it to the tennis courts, that's the 5k mark, just get to the tennis courts." I turned it in to a chant, repeating it over and over in my head, "ten-nis-courts-ten-nis-courts-ten-nis-courts."

As I ran under the overpass and saw the tennis court emerge along the trail, I heard my watch beep off the three mile mark but I put it out of my mind. At this point, numbers didn't matter, distance and pace were irrelevant. All that mattered was that I was still 2 miles from home and the only way I was going to make it home was by the power of my own two feet. If I walked, it meant that the bad run would just last longer so I had to run if I wanted it to end.

The bad run was the monster chasing me and if I just ran fast enough and stayed ahead of it, I might make it to safety.

After the tennis courts, I focused on mile 4. This mile was tough because it is along a straight section of the bike path, with few turns or landmarks to focus on but I knew that the intersection at the end of it would get me to that soccer field, in that park, where I ran that race last summer…and the turn on to Fairfax Drive. Once I hit Fairfax drive, I knew I could make it home no matter what so I just had to grit my teeth, focus on the intersection and put mile 4 and the bad run that much closer to being behind me.

I focused on the things I knew. There are those rocks we had an impromptu PB&J picnic at that one time. There is that house we looked at last summer; I don't remember it being that shade of green. Is that the intersection up ahead in the distance? Oh, I smell McDonald's French fries, yup, that's the intersection, just dig a little deeper and get there!!

Before I knew it, I was turning off the bike path and on to Fairfax drive. I had just over ¾ of a mile to go and I was going to make it. I ran to the metro station, turned right and then left down the small road across from the mall. Next I just had to get to that yoga studio and then after that the construction site. Once I get to the construction site, the park next to our apartment building is just a block away. That park, by that church, where they sometimes hand out soup to the homeless, if I got there, it would be a complete 5 miles and I would have a 2 block walk to home.

All these things are running through my head as I slug out that last mile, not daring to look at my watch and hoping that I hit all the traffic lights right because if I have to stop for a signal, I'm afraid I won't start up again.

And then, I am at the park and I hit the stop button my watch. The watch reads 5.02 miles in 50:29! Impossible! I can't believe it! That is way too fast for a long run, especially one that felt so belaboring. When I check out my paces, my last mile was actually in the 9:20s. My bad run, where every step was coerced, ends up being a speed workout?

The long run should have been a long slow run but fear can be a powerful motivator when it is chasing you down a bike path at 7:30 in the morning. Bad run – DONE!

Today's Daily Dozen:

1 hour interval walk on the treadmill, 60 pushups interspersed (15 at a time)

Core workout @ lunch hour