It is not a new fact that there are simply days where you have it and days when you don't. Life is full of variables, circumstances and unavoidable changes. I get it, but there are those days. Those epic days where all of your training, work and commitment can't win against various forces and you just TANK. Fully and completely.
That was my yesterday. I have never had a run so poor, so discouraging and so demoralizing. Frankly, it was flat out humiliating. Perhaps that is what I have needed lately, a nice slice of humble pie, to remind myself unequivocally that no matter how many miles I run, laps I swim or mountains I cycle, I am still just a human, and subject to physical limits. These endurance goals I have are HARD. Damn hard, and they tax the body more than I realize.
Yesterday was Sarah and my last long run before we tackle the Las Vegas Marathon next month. 22 miles was the distance, and we needed an afternoon run to get us ready for the night run in Vegas. Of course yesterday was record heat for this time of year and was an easy 84 degrees when we met to run. I had fueled properly and smartly, packed my performance chews, gels and electrolyte tabs. I had thoroughly hydrated. I had done everything right.
The run started okay. It was hot, but nothing I couldn't handle. A few miles in I started to feel lethargic. Hmmm, thats weird. So we stopped, I took my O2 Gold vitamins, drank some water and stretched. I looked at our map, 6.5 miles. Oh man, thats it? So we continued on. After that first stop I started noticing some cramping in my lower GI and by the time we reached the 8.5 mile stop, I was experiencing continuous pain. The feeling was like being gassy or on the verge of diarrhea (I know, TMI....get used to it:). We were both hot and sweaty, but I was getting rather uncomfortable. The next 6 miles were rough. All uphill and the cramping got worse. It started to go into my back and the jostling of running made it horrible. My pace dramatically decreased. Here we were only at mile 12 and I was flat out miserable. My stomach started to get nauseous and all I could think was how much further I had to go.
At mile 14 we hit Wash Park and I was concerned. It wasn't getting better, it wasn't subsiding and was seriously starting to impede my running. How can this be happening? I was miserable. I went to the porta potty 2 times attempting to relieve myself only to be met mostly with wavering intense cramping and no relief (if you know what I mean). I just flat felt broken. There was nothing I could do to help myself and everything about my pace, form and morale was slowly coming crashing down.
17 to 22 miles was forever, my cramping was worse and extending into my back. Walking was less painful, but the desire to just get home kept me running. My pace was at a crawl. I would stop hunched over every half mile towards the end. My body and mind were in an epic battle. I have never fought so hard to keep moving. I finished the miles having stopped over 30 minutes during the course of the run. I came home and wrestled with intense nausea and a low grade fever. Yeah, it was not my finest.
We finished, took our victory picture, I crawled in my car, called my husband and fell apart. I was on the brink of turning in my running shoes. My amazing husband however didn't take my BS. He told me straight up, "Honey, welcome to the IRONMAN life. You have chosen big goals and you are ABSOLUTELY going to have horrible days. Don't cry about it, just shake it off!" His last words to me, right before "I love you", made me giggle, "Buck up sissy pants!" It's just what I needed.
Yep, I've been humbled, but I will only come back stronger. The victory isn't as sweet until you have tasted a little defeat.
