Folly or Feasible?

My runs lately have been a true struggle. Whether because I’m running multiple days in a row and am tired or am still playing catch-up on some stamina after my illness-and-injury break, I don’t know. I just know that the continuous running portions haven’t been reaching three miles, which I’d been doing before, and in some cases even two miles requires a walk break … or two.

Some of it is that I’m going to fast. (Caveat, as always, that “fast” is a relative term!) I can’t pinpoint why some days 12:30 feels slow and some days 14:59 seems a herculean effort. But when I’m struggling at a mile and glance at the Garmin, invariably I’m in the 11-12 mm range. And I make a conscious effort to slow down, only to discover a few minutes later that I’m at 12:15, yet feeling like I’m just plugging along. I burn out early on those days. Some days, though, I’m not playing Speed Racer, and I still feel like I’m back on Week 3. No rhyme or reason.

This is not forward progress and is certainly nowhere near being on-target with the half-marathon training plan I expected to start following after the US10K Classic on Labor Day. A month ago. Last weekend I should have done 5 miles as my long run and hit 14 miles for the week, not struggling just to do three on a treadmill — and fewer every day thereafter.

I got fed up with it.

Boo, I need a favor. I’m going to go run, and then I’m going to call you to come pick me up.
Um, okay. Where will you be?
Don’t know. That’s the point. I just want to run without worrying about how far I’m going, whether I’ll have enough energy to get back, whether I could or should have gone farther, whatever.
Okay, just make sure it’s somewhere I know how to get to.
Well I don’t think I’m going to get THAT far away, but thanks for the vote of confidence!

I put on my running skirt, the one that had only been worn during the US10K Classic. Obviously that makes it my long-distance outfit of choice, right?

Earlier that day I had driven a route through a section of my neighborhood I rarely run — primarily because it’s all uphill on the way home. I hadn’t looked at the mileage, just assured myself that it was new and different and, most importantly, downhill.

And I went for my run.

I really wasn’t in the mood. This was supposed to be my day of rest after four days in a row. It was late in the day, and I was tired. I warned Boo that I might well get only as far as the corner before I called her to pick me up.

You’d make me come pick you up at the corner?
Have you met me?

I took the downhill route. Settled into a rhythm and tried not to go too fast. I looped around to the familiar cross street, expected to turn back into the neighborhood and head home but decided to go to the next street before turning in. Noticed a street on the left I’d never been on … a street that looked nice and flat. Ran to the end. Ran back to the main road. Decided to go a little more before heading back home.

I’ve developed a knack for glancing at my Garmin for pace without noticing the distance. Knowing the distance is the kiss of death for any run of mine, so this is a valuable skill. After the first mile my pace was hovering at 15 mm, slow even for me, about a half-step away from walking in some instances. But it was having the desired effect in that I was still running.

Starbucks. That’s where I need to go. Mostly flat on the way over, a nice place to sit while I wait, I deserve another latte if I run all the way over there.

There’s a slight hill up to the Starbucks. I almost quit, as is my wont with my well-established “good enough” approach, but slowed down ever more and chugged away to the top. And kept going. The main street is flat, I’ve run there often, and I felt like I could go a little more, so I did.

Knowing I really could stop wherever certainly helped.

I risked a glance at the distance and discovered I’d been almost 4.5 miles. I made it a goal to hit five.

Ironically, the five-mile mark took me to within 1/2 mile of my house. One more light, a nice downhill stretch, cross into the neighborhood, an easy 1/4 mile back to house.

I called Boo. Come pick me up. Told her I’d be at the entrance to the neighborhood.

You’re kidding me, right?
Bring my Gatorade.

Why didn’t I just walk that last 1/4 mile? I could have. Frankly, I’m pretty sure I could have run all the way home. So why did I call?

Because that was the deal: I could stop and call whenever. I could run as far as I wanted, then stop. And a deal’s a deal, even if it is with my inner three-year-old. Would she believe me next time if I said, “Oh we’re almost there. Just push a little further, you can do it?” Heck no.

Mind games.

Whatever works.