How to run eleven miles, or not

First, prepare. 

The day before: eat right; sleep right; drink plenty of water until your pee is almost clear. (Runners talk about pee color all the time. It’s something you get used to.) 

If you haven’t run eleven miles in a while, take the day off from the gym. Walk a little. Rest.  Stretch.  

Check! 

Though in truth I didn’t walk or stretch. I barely got off my butt all day. I wrote until mid-afternoon then I read for several hours. Then I watched a couple of Modern Family and Mentalist repeats. Also, I had two helpings of Friendly’s mint chocolate chip ice cream. That’s a dishonest way of saying I ate a half of a half gallon. It was a perfect day.  

Ice cream may not be the ideal pre-run food, but isn't it our imperfections that make us human????

 

  

Second, plan your route.

Check! 

I had an excellent route, the best route ever: a loop around Boston College. About half the miles were on my much-beloved Boston Marathon course. I know. I’ve been running flat stuff lately, and this route is pretty hilly. I figured I’d go slowly. No big deal. I’ve done this loop dozens of times. And hills are good training, right? 

Third, check that you have all your supplies. 

Check! Oh. Wait.

When I was twenty-two, it took me ten minutes, tops, to get ready for a run: red cotton shorts; T-shirt with Maine in big blue letters and a lobster on the front; Walkman -- stuffed in waistband -- duct-taped at the bottom to hold in the batteries; peds on the feet, those little socks with pom poms; running shoes -- my awesome maroon-swooshed Pegasus Nikes.   

Today? It took me three trips to the car. Three! I needed: water – three frozen bottles, bananas, Body Glide, sunscreen, sunglasses, a change of clothes (I was meeting a friend after), a change of shoes, towel, deodorant. I got halfway down the driveway, which luckily is short, when I remembered I’d forgotten my shuffle, my phone and most importantly, my reading glasses. 

Already I was leaving twenty minutes later than planned. Channel 5 News had said the morning was supposed to be in the mid-70s. It was now 80. 

Fourth, warm up. 

Oh yeah.

 

I was plenty warmed up by the time I started running. It was 85 degrees and humid. Not a cloud in the sky. 

Fifth, start slowly. 

If there’s any other way to start, somebody needs to let me know. I’ve never NOT started slowly. 

Sixth, go! Adjust pace as needed. 

Check to infinity times infinity.

I not only adjusted pace, I also adjusted expectations, because within a half mile I wanted to die. The heat was relentless. The humidity was killer. I was a whiny baby.

What am I getting myself into? I thought, as I turned right off Centre Street and chugged uphill. Water was pouring off my back when I stopped at the 21 mile mark to take a picture. Ha. Truth here. I stopped to take a picture because I wanted an excuse to stop. Just a mile and a half into the run, and I wanted to stop.  Pathetic. 

I looked at my watch and realized there was no way I’d be able to run eleven miles at this pace and get to my lunch date on time. I would have to lop off some miles. The upside? Possibly I wouldn’t die out here.

Instead of continuing down to Cleveland Circle and up the backside of Boston College, I decided to turn around, jog west the three-plus miles to the fire station and then turn back and head east to the car. This would make the run closer to eight miles.  

It hit me then that maybe eleven miles was unrealistic anyhow. And too, I really needed to get to that fire station fast. There’s a nice bathroom at that fire station. 

Tar, it turns out, is an excellent cooking surface. Under the hot sun, I baked like a haddock, a white, tired haddock. But still, I continued forward. This was not due to any strength or tenacity on my part. This section of the run was mostly downhill. I let gravity do its thing. 

I took another photo at the Johnny Kelley statue. I rubbed the older Kelley’s shoe for good luck. Then I slogged forward. My only goal was to get to the fire station. My bladder was not happy with me. 

The Kelley statue: Young at Heart

At this point I started to see more runners. Like me, they looked like they wanted to kill themselves. We all looked worn out and grim. Still, we all smiled and said good morning as we met. When I reached Chestnut Street, I realized I had to turn around. I was still several blocks from the fire station and its wonderful rest room facility. However, if I didn’t turn around at that point I wouldn’t have enough time to get back and meet my friend.  

I’d like to say I was angry at myself for going so slowly I had to stop short. I’d like to say that I sprinted back up the hills of Newton and felt renewed and refreshed and excited about life and running. 

Not exactly. You can make the grandest running plans, but if you’re not ready for the course, or if the temps wear you out and you have to slow down or cut out miles, well, that’s just the way it goes.  And it wasn’t just the heat. My knees were aching, my hips were singing, my form was off. I’ve had way too many injuries because I’ve ignored my body’s signals and kept going when I should have stopped. I’ve learned to trust my running head. It was time to head back. 

After I turned around I walk for a bit. I got a second wind after a half mile or so, and jogged up Heartbreak Hill and back to Centre St. When I got to my car I poured water over my head. My eyes stung from all the salt I’d sweated out. I washed the grit off my face and body. I thought about finding a bathroom. I considered all that I’d done. 

It certainly had not been my best run. But at least I’d gotten out there. Somehow, I’d managed to cast off this dark anchor dragging me down the last few days.  With each step forward, I climbed further out of the fog and into sunlight. It was hot and I went slowly and got burned. But in truth it didn’t feel all that bad. It felt kind of good.

I hope to do some longer races this fall. I haven’t yet ruled out Boston in April. The dark stuff is still there waiting. I know that.  But I ran on my marathon route today and I remembered how strong I can be. I wonder if maybe I can get stronger still.