Going mental

Bad mental

I mentioned in last week's summary that we did 5 miles on our group run. What I didn't mention is how after the run, once I got into my car, I burst into tears and cried all the way home. I'm still not sure I understand all the reasons for this particular breakdown, but I suspect it was a combination of hormones, insecurity, general stress, exhaustion, and frustration at being pushed beyond my capacity. Instead of being encouraged by the accomplishment (5 miles!), I was overcome with a sense of defeat. Where there should have been elation, there was instead despair. The experience caused me a lot of soul searching, a long conversation with my trainer, and some bit of re-evaluation of my participation with the running group. I am currently endeavoring to find a way to make the group experience work for me, trying to find a balance between the positive and the negative.

Good mental

On Tuesday, I headed back to the gym for my regular weekday run. I planned to run 3 miles, but was not sure what my goals were beyond that. On most of my runs, I have been practicing running with walking intervals sprinkled in about every 6 minutes. On several other occasions I have challenged myself to run a full mile without taking any walk breaks. So on Tuesday, since I felt comfortable in my ability to run a mile, I thought it would be good to try to push for more. I decided on a goal of 2 miles, no walking.

I really believed this was reaching - 2 miles - but figured that I could just force myself to do it. Somewhere near the end of the second mile, the thought popped into my head, "That wasn't too bad. What about 3? I wonder if I could do 3?" Bolstered by the accomplishment of meeting my goal, I thought, "Why the heck not?"

And this is where I discovered the mental game of running. Because once I decided to try for 3, there really was no settling for less. It became a real test after the first couple of laps into that 3rd mile. I found that even though my legs were lacking in strength and any measurable feeling, and even though my lungs were being pushed beyond their comfortable capacity, it was possible to continue moving forward by the sheer force of my will alone. I found that being tired, being breathless, was not the same as being unable. I found that until my muscles physically failed and collapsed under me, being fatigued was not a valid reason to let them stop. I found that it was enough for my mind to say to my body, "Do not stop. Do. Not. Stop."

And my body obeyed.

This was a grand success for me and a welcome epiphany. And enough of a confidence boost that I went out on Thursday and did it again.

All in the family

Firstly, just a few things about last week's group run. The massive rainstorm (say what?!?) pushed our 7am run time to 3pm. It also forced us off the trail and into the neighborhoods, on a brutal, hill-intensive 4 mile course. I don't have to tell you I sucked wind. Thankfully, my trainer was with me and helped me get through. I love you, trainer. Oh, and we got lost -- not lost in the sense of not knowing where we were, but lost in the sense of "where the heck did our group go?" We found them, and our little detour allowed us to get away with only doing 3.6 miles. But, just so you know, in the summary below I'm calling it 4.

My highlights this week were getting to cheer on my sister-in-law as she ran the Capital to Coast Relay (the LONGEST running relay in the U.S.) and getting to hang out (and run) with my brother.

I don't fully understand the Capital to Coast relay, but the gist of it is that teams of 8-12 people run from Austin to Corpus Christi (223 miles), starting on Friday morning and finishing Saturday night (yes, they run through the night.) My rock star sister-in-law ran 4 legs of this race, a total of around 23 miles, with about an hour (or less) of sleep. This calls to mind the t-shirt we saw one of the runners wearing -- it said, "Running is a mental sport. We're all insane." Yep. That about sums it up.

But I gotta tell you, the insanity is contagious. We had a blast driving around from point to point and cheering her on. We are super proud of her.

After dropping my sister-in-law at an exchange point near Buda, my brother and I headed to Town Lake (or Lady Bird Lake, for you people who like to rename stuff) for a 3-mile run. It was noon already and a little warm and a lot sunny, but I did it and even sprinted the final tenth of last mile. I guess little sisters never quite outgrow the desire to impress their older brothers. We wrapped up the afternoon with some tasty tacos from Chipotle. And yes, I ate all 3.

Yeah, we're at a football game. We talked about running.

Summary of the week:

• Sunday, Oct. 9 -- 4 miles (see anecdote above) with the group (sort of)
  
• Tuesday, Oct. 11 -- 2.7 miles at the track
• Friday, Oct. 14 -- 3 miles at the lake with my brother
• Sunday, Oct. 16 -- 5 miles with the group

The upside of a stubborn streak

As I plodded from my office to the gym today, everything about me felt heavy. My spirit felt heavy. My heart felt heavy. Mostly, my body felt heavy. The weight of the insanely humid 95 degree day (am I the only one that sees the ridiculousness of 95 degrees in October?) was heavy upon me. It was difficult to even propel myself forward. I'm very serious. It was difficult to move. The very last thing I felt like doing was running. In fact, I felt utterly incapable of running.

I was on the phone with my trainer, pouring out my assorted maladies. My lethargy. My heel pain. My heaviness. My fear of injury. My two day eternity since my last run. As he spoke words of encouragement mingled with tough love (e.g. "now is the time you go against what you feel and do what you're supposed to do" and "remember to stretch your feet before and after"), I was thinking, "Ugh... he just doesn't understand what I'm feeling." Every fiber of my being rebelling against his words, silently refusing to be urged onward. But still I schlepped my body toward the gym. I'm stubborn that way.

I hate it when the trainer is right. Especially when the trainer is my husband. Yes, honey, it has been admitted in print - you were right. About the pushing through, about the stretching, about me being a runner.

I am a runner.

I am a runner.

I AM A RUNNER!

Summary of the week:

• Sunday 10/2 -- 3.29 miles with the running group. Wow. The weather was gorgeous and it wasn't even (excessively) hard.
• Monday 10/3 -- a little one on zero racquetball. [sigh] I really need to find a partner.
  
• Tuesday 10/4 -- 2.1 miles at the track. 5 minute run, 30 second walk for 30 minutes. Then I got my flu shot.
• Wednesday -- rest day. Pick a reason, any reason: son home sick, arm achy from flu shot, heel pain, general depression. Any excuse will do.
• Thursday 10/6 -- rest day. Totally legitimate reason: cowboy tacos with Suzanne. We talked about running...
  
• Friday 10/7 -- 2.4 miles at the track. 5 minute run, 1 minute walk for 30 minutes. The first mile was way under my typical 12 minute pace. Woo-hoo! The trainer calls this progress. I also stretched before my run, as instructed, and did not experience my usual stiffness and long warm-up period. The trainer calls this him being right.
  

Goal for this Sunday's group run: 4 miles.