Kind of an in-between Sunday. Sundays are inherently good. No work. Time to reset, to regroup, and… clean stuff. But there’s like a smell that I can’t quite identify. Not a bad smell really, just a smell, and the fact that I can’t figure out what it is bugs me a little.
Housekeeping, I guess – I assumed I would be writing more than once a week. After last week, when it felt so great to post something here, I was like, back. I can’t make a commitment that I feel unsure about though, and at this point a weekly post count seems like it would get in the way of my big, important LIFE, life. So the approach that seems more practical is to take pleasure in the time I spend here, whenever I choose to spend time here. This place is a place my mind goes to, more than anything else.
Today I ran 7 miles at 9:45 pace. Earlier in the week, like Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, I ran 20, 3.5, and 3.5 miles, respectively. Big disappointing gap in between those runs and today. The 20 last Sunday was quite nice, as it was the longest run I’ve done in I don’t even know how long. What’s even more, is I was able to clean the house and help make dinner afterwards. Very fulfilling to be able to do all that in one day. Not like that’s a lot, lot; we did other stuff, too. (I hate using semicolons when I’m unsure if I’m using them correctly and I’m never sure if I’m using them correctly.) Monday and Tuesday’s runs were nice, easy, after work cruising-type runs, which would be a staple of any upcoming training I might do. I’m on my feet so much at work that running 8 or 12 miles afterwards just robs me of all my energy, and I think do more harm than good. The training I did for the hundred in December of 2018 was like that. I was trying to do more than I could really do. It put me at a disadvantage come race day. On that note, I never posted anything about that race because I wasn’t writing, so why not now.
I peed on myself way more than once. That’s why I’m half-smiling that smile. Anyway, I finished 45 minutes over 24 hours, so I missed my goal but surprisingly I didn’t and still don’t feel one bit disappointed about it. Running that race was one of the most important things I’ve ever done. The training alone taught me that I’m tough physically and emotionally, but the race was another thing in itself. Mentally, it was easy, honestly. I never doubted that I would finish. Physically though, I had never felt such pain, dull and sharp at the same time. My entire body was sore from mile 75 to the end, and that was my operating condition basically. The really tough part was the acute, needs-immediate-attention type pain that would hop from one part of my body to another. My left heel was a hotspot. The bottoms of my rib cage. My right shoulder. They all took turns shouting at me. I felt like I had to go to the bathroom perpetually. And I was going through all of this internal and external turmoil in front of my partner and her mother and my mother, who were my crew. It was fun though, because I never forgot how it was just a little game that always has a good ending. Shout to my crew, by the way.
So I think I’m going to gear up for another one. I love this shit. I ordered some wireless headphones that won’t die from copious amounts of ear sweat. I’m eyeing a new vest that won’t dig bruises into my ribs. I’m going to order gels and salt caps with an Amazon gift card I got for Christmas. And I’ll probably buy a couple pairs of new shoes. No idea when or if the 100 ship will sail again but I am making repairs all around to make sure she is seaworthy. Weird analogy. I think that’s all for now. See you whenever. La la la.