So, catch-up time!
Today begins week 4. At the end of every week I praise the miraculous force, energy, dumb luck that propells me past that “long” run, which this week increases from seven to eight miles.
Last week was difficult as I tracked that lucky number seven on a treadmill Friday, after a day of being quite sick and dehydrated (resulting from enough stupidity to merit its own blog, with runner icon person flipped to the side.. will not dwell on it here). But, again, I made it. I also took heed of the book for the first time and sandwiched this run in one day cushions, which I understand will become increasingly important as mileages increase.
I have relied on the treadmill more lately, as weather conditions, time of day, etc. can be less important in that controlled climate. My six-miler the week before had been down the East River and up around to Battery Park, where I encountered too many commuters and tourists to weave through with any consistent pace, and where my iPhone running GPS map kept getting cut off by bridges and tunnels. Frustration is high enough as that distance ticks by so sluggishly in my shaking, sweating hand that an actual standstill in numbers was enough to consider the switch to Sopranos FBI informant for greater reasons than the refreshing coolness of the NY water. I can trust the treadmill’s numbers for pace, distance, even calories when I’m feeling needlessly vain. And VH1 countdown episode blocks from five years ago.
So week 2 was a Monday night at the gym, carefully planned to coincide with my new favorite show, ABC’s Dating in the Dark, which rapidly became the most despised thing I had ever laid eyes on as the questionable air conditioning around me (later found out electricity was on the fritz), general nausea and irritation took hold. Why the eff does the guy next to me keep starting and stopping his runs, getting off and on his machine? Why are my bowels starting to come alive? Why are these people feeling each other’s faces and saying the word personality a zillion times on national TV?? Complete aggravation. And I think it was ironically compounded by the short distance. When I’m prepared for a crazy-long run, the likes of which I’ve never imagined before (*cough* 5 miles), my worse-case scenario almost turns into relief when I’m approaching that halfway mark, then “home stretch” (which my oh-so-clever trickster mind has a very loose definition of). Which I think is kinda opposite of what my book tells me, I think. But in life, I’m very silver lining girl so maybe a little bit of old fashioned fear does me good now and then.
So. That was Monday. Tuesday I clocked my four miles on the treadmill to less ceremony, and Thursday I rushed in the three others on the track before speeding out to a Coney Island Pat Benatar/Blondie concert. Then came those triumphant, sticky six miles which I followed with a fun night out.
Last week I piled all the shorter distances together Mon-Wed, starting with another Dating in the Dark, this time to far greater success. My opinion of the show continues to deteriorate, but this week did not include red-faced scowling at the contestants on my snowy little screen. Tuesday’s four miles were back at the gym; I gladly used the dodgy weather (which later in the evening erupted into a downpour during my bar trivia rounds) as an excuse to watch an episode of True Life or Oprah or something equally dramatic. And Wednesday’s fully will-it-or-won’t-it gray skies plunked me back between those bars for the three miles.
When I arrived back there yet again Friday with friend’s borrowed headphones (thank goodness, because as much as old-school running proponents discourage music, etc. I must have audio and/or visual stimulation!) I was more worried than ever, for reasons I’ll get into in another, less overly long post. But I rocked it out to a repeat of VH1’s 100 Greatest Hard Rock songs, which I’ve already seen, but was probably reassuring in that way. As I walked to a towel after those seven miles, swaying with euphoric exhaustion, my boxing class instructor found me and after inquiring about my absence from class, promised to email marathon tips.
My tip, with the sickness, both self-inflicted and not, I’ve experienced lately: power through. Some kind of power helped me achieve those distances when they seemed unfathomable.
