I hate my intestines/colon/sphincter and think I might have them removed. I mean Marshall Ulrich had his toenails removed to make ultra running easier, so what’s the big deal?
It’s true that most of my workouts go swimmingly (for lack of a better term). But, every once in awhile (well, like once a week practically) I have a workout that almost makes me cry or actually does make me cry. A couple weeks ago it was the banged up knee.
This week it was my long run yesterday, but I won’t show pictures because it would probably be illegal.
Oh, wait. Before the fun started I did get this adorable picture of the “Geese” family who lives on a lake near my house. This was about mile three, so the wheels had not come off yet and I was still shitting glitter and rainbows. Yeah, glitter and rainbows get shat early on. Later, it’s not that pretty.
I had decided to mix it up a bit and put a longish run of two hours on the schedule mid week. I’m doing workouts by time, not mileage these days. I figured a nice, slow run for two hours would get me about 13 miles. And it did, right on the nose.
It started out well with the Geese family on a cool, misty Colorado day. My stomach had revolted a tad right before I left home – Ken and I had had a date night in Boulder at the Med the night before and while I didn’t overdo it, I mixed all kinds of tapas from calamari to hangar steak to pizza to feta/tomatoes. I should know better.
I was fine until about mile six. The cramps hit hard and I kept running, hoping, like we all do, that it was just a fart. Nope. Had to check my surroundings and make a b-line for the bushes. Fortunately I was on a back country road, so no harm, no foul (well, it was foul, but you know what I mean). Back on the road and feeling great, I hit the turn around point and cruised for home.
Mile ten and the cramps revisited. I was feeling so good cardio and muscle wise that I was pissed to keep getting derailed by this G.I. crap. Again, pulled off in the bushes, right by the Geese family. Those birds poop while just walking around, so they need not judge me. At least I hid, unlike some geese I know.
Mile eleven and I was still in trouble. I contemplated giving Ken and call for a pussy pickup, but sucks to be two miles from home and not be able to get there.
Mile twelve, I really did think I’d have to call for a pickup. I’m not too proud to go in the bushes, but there was nowhere to escape to. And I AM too proud to have stuff coming down my leg.
Running is mental. Your body wants to give out long before your brain. Having to hold in an explosion is very mental too. I would venture to say it takes more brain power than crossing a finish line sometimes. We’ve all been there. You know what I’m talking about.
I made it home. Ken met me at the door. I said, “You don’t want to get near me. This isn’t pretty.”
The story is funny and not funny. I was pissed my run got all interrupted by crap. I still did the run in 2:00, which was my goal. You have to laugh at all the adventures we go through while training. I now know mixing tapas the night before a long run and washing it down with two glasses of wine is not advisable. I should have learned this a long time ago, but as much as my training means to me, I also try to live a normal life and not be ruled by it. If that means a shitty run every once in awhile, so be it.
Have any “let down” runs this week?