That thing at which I suck

No, the other thing…no the other one…running outside.

This week’s training run distance was eight miles. Now, I conquered 7 miles last week, so while I was a little nervous about running eight miles, I thought I could probably do it. However, I wanted to run outside this time because a) I will not be able to run the actual race on the treadmill, and b) it was supposed to be nice out today, and I’m desperate for even a hint of spring.

This meant that it was time for coping mechanism #1: shopping. First, I went in search of that dorkiest of accessories, the waist pack. I desperately need to get new contacts, so I have to be able to carry both my contact case and my glasses with me when I run in case I have to take my contacts out at some point. Yes, I really am blind enough that if I don’t have either my glasses or my contacts, running around outside would be seriously dangerous for me. After securing myself a sweet little fanny pack (shudder) I went looking for a lightweight running jacket. Why is it that so many of the exercise clothes makers assume that women want ridiculously ugly workout gear? I’m not interested in magenta or lime green clothes. And Under Armour, why is your crap so incredibly expensive? I don’t care if your jacket is made from the same advanced polymer as the space shuttle, $90 is way too much money for a little jacket. I couldn't find a jacket to buy, so coping mechanism #1 was only partially successful.

Coping mechanism #2: read a book, didn’t really seem to apply. I’ve tried reading running magazines a couple of times, and typically I find their training tips confusing. I’m all for articles like “we test new running shoes and rate them” but I find the profiles of people who run ten marathons per year in 2 hours and 19 minutes too intimidating. And what the hell is a tempo run anyway?

Coping mechanism #3, baking, would have been actually counter-productive, so I didn’t bother with it.

So I came home, ate lunch, and loaded up my fancy new gear (aka the waist pouch), got changed, and headed out for my run. It went pretty well at first. I had forgotten to charge up my iPod, so it conked out on me about three miles in. At four miles, I actually felt surprisingly good. At five miles, I hit a hill and wanted to lie down and die, but kept going. I may have walked just a little bit on the hill. Then my right foot started to hurt, so I walked a little bit more. Finally, the end was in sight! I turned in to my neighborhood, ran half a block, and my body just flat out quit on me. It was like it went “hey, we’re home! I’m done.” even though I still had half a mile to go. I’d run a few steps and then walk, then run a few more, and walk. Mostly I walked. As I crested the overly steep hill upon which my house sits, I gathered enough energy to run the last tenth of a mile, and then I was home. At which time I caught a glimpse of myself in the storm door – crazy hair straggling out of my pony tail and frizzing, red, sweaty face, runny nose, and huffing and puffing chest. Wow, do I make running glamorous.

I staggered inside, feeling like crap. After a shower and some time hanging out on the couch I felt closer to human, but now I am completely exhausted, and my ankles hurt and feet hurt. I’m going to keep at it, because I really want to do this race, but outdoor running? Still not my friend.

At least I can say I (mostly) ran eight miles. Farthest I've ever run!