Epic Fail

This past weekend I experienced what my 12-year-old son would describe as an EPIC FAIL. I don't even want to tell you about it. But I will, because I am posting my training experience on the internet (or, as I like to call it, because it makes me giggle, the internets.)

As you know from my last post, I was feeling pretty good last week. That post was on a Tuesday. On Thursday, I had another great 4 mile run. It was awesome. I felt confident and strong.

I was really looking forward to the group run on Saturday because I felt absolutely ready to conquer my first 6 mile run. Since the running group is on a different training schedule than I am, my distance is usually shorter on our group run. This weekend, though, there were only 3 of us who could make it and because of time constraints, their distance was going to be close to mine. We met at our usual spot at Town Lake and I learned that the run that was mapped out for us was not going to be on the trail, as I had expected and hoped, but up Congress Avenue (a long steady incline.) I wavered for a few minutes trying to decide whether I should just run on my own around the trail or join the other ladies up Congress.

In the end, I opted to stick with the group, but it turned out this was a wrong decision for me. About a mile into the run, tired from the heat, the hill, and dodging pedestrians, I gave up. Whoever has told you that running is a mental game is not lying. (In fact, one of my husband's favorite quotes is from a documentary he watched recently about 3 guys who ran across Africa. One of these guys (a former chronic smoker & drinker) said, "For me running is 90% mental. And the other 10% is mental. I have no clue how I do this [expletive].")

At that moment on Congress Avenue on a sunny Saturday afternoon, I lost the mental game -- and I knew it. It wasn't the hill that defeated me, it was me. The most frustrating thing was knowing what was happening, watching it happen and feeling powerless to bring myself back.

It was awful. I felt like a complete and utter failure. I regretted my decision to run this route. I regretted my attitude and parting, snappy words to my friends. It was ugly. A forty-one year old woman should possess more dignity. I just didn't have it.

Thankfully, it was a long, long walk back down Congress. I stewed for a little while. I cried. I called my sister-in-law and she patiently listened to my frustrated ranting. Eventually, I made it back to the lake where I met my waiting family. We visited our local RunTex, where a scary Russian lady sold me a new pair of shoes. We returned home while I made vague mental plans to run my 6 miles tomorrow.

And I'll tell you how that went in my next post.