I
plan my route before hand, carefully calculating distance, potential hills, and
trying to avoid busy roads where drivers can be reckless and fast. I lounge
around on the couch, attempting to delay as much as possible the inevitable
long run that I have now planned and am required to do according to my training
plan. I hum and ha and procrastinate until I've realized its actually 3 in the
afternoon and I still haven't left, and by the time I finish the 23km, its
going to be getting late and close to supper. Reluctantly, I put on my running
clothes and lace up my shoes, careful to pack my Camelback with Gu, lip balm
and kleenex before filling it half full with water, and I head out the door.
I
must be f-ing crazy.
I
start running, following my route as planned. I'm only on kilometer 5. My lungs
are burning, my feet are sore, my legs hurt and I'm pretty sure the tightness
in my chest is comparable to a cardiac arrest.
I
keep repeating to myself, over and over, I must be f-ing crazy.
I'm
the one who decided to run, to train for a race, to do an "easy 23k"
today.
I
must be f-ing crazy.
But
its these difficult times, when your hips are aching so bad it feels as if
they're yelling at you to quit.
When
your legs are so heavy, that even a 2lb Camelbak feels like it could cause you
to collapse under its weight.
Even
the wind feels as if it is pushing against you.
In
fact, it's as if all of the odds are against you, and the only thing you want
to do is sit on the side of the road and cry.
Mentally,
you begin caving into the dark thoughts of the deepest parts of your brain.
You
tell yourself how you can't do it and ask "why am I out here in the
first place?"
I
must be f-ing crazy. And I'm sure to repeat this to myself at least 100
more times during the run.
But
this moment, this is what it all comes down to. This moment is when you have to
rise above the pain and realize, I'm doing this.
I
left the house to run, even when I could have done a million other, easier things.
I
took that first step.
I'm
here trying and I'm giving it my all.
The
thing about long training runs is, theres no water stations, theres no one on
the side of the road cheering you on, you're out there suffering on your own.
But
these long training runs, these days that you dread, the days where the running
and everything feels wrong and miserable, these are the days that make the
races great. These are the days that help you achieve your PRs, these are
the days of hard work that we do in private, so we can shine our light when it
counts.
And
when race day finally comes, you will look back upon these days, remembering
the struggles, and feel the strength from enduring, and doing something that
not everyone is capable of. Because the thing is, training is going to suck
some days, but thats what sets you apart from everyone else.
Yes, I'm f-ing crazy, and
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Happy Trails,
The Rural Runner
