Happy Thursday!

Sorry for not posting sooner about my first twenty mile run this Sunday.  One of the hardest things in planning for a run of that length is figuring out where to go.  You know you are going to be tired, both mentally and physically.  So, it is best to pick somewhere new and interesting to keep your mind on things other than the inexorable, gradual, burgeoning urge to stop.  Because I couldn’t decide where to go, I left at first light with only a vague plan:  I would run a familiar ~10 mile loop with a ~10 mile out-and-back jaunt down an unfamiliar road.

As I was out running, I was caught up in the freedom of travelling 20 miles on foot.  I decided to explore further along the unfamiliar road and didn’t make it back to my familiar loop until mile 19.

I don’t mean to gloss over everything that happened between mile 0 and mile 19, but there isn’t that much to say.  I put one foot in front of the other thousands of times over and over and over again.  My most difficult mile was mile 14.  I was tired and sore and running up hill when I had to stop and walk. I think I even had a brief 10-second panic attack wondering if I could actually finish the last six miles. By that time, there were no shortcuts; the only way to get back home was to finish the run.  I stopped, ate some trail mix, waved to some passing cyclists–whose perplexed expressions provided a makeshift mirror for my disheveled appearance–then kept on going.

Unfortunately, my extra trek along the uncharted route caused me to finish the run 3 miles from home.  At first I figured I would have a leisurely walk back, but after unslinging my backpack and walking for about half a mile I stopped, sat down, and called Rebecca who came to save me.

On the drive back home I commented to Rebecca: “You know, twenty-miles wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so far.”  Yeah I was a little out of it.