15.5 with My Other Half--as Jared's Patience Is Tested

Slacker blogger--Check.
One early morning run--Check.
One miserable run--Check.
Sweet new shoes (even if sans fancy red laces)--Check!

This week brought some of the usual, with a few mild adventures thrown in. Tuesday's late night and flat tire precipitated an early Wednesday morning run--4.5 miles with my beloved, who was willing, but less than happy about the 5:00 a.m. mileage.

Thursday night brought the scheduled moderate/long weekly distance, with Jared and I scurrying to the gym to avoid the frigid weather. A miserable 11 miles for me--despite my fabulous new kicks--and likely miserable also for Jared, who had to put up with my griping--I was tight, my can was sore, my calves were uncomfortable, my knees were aching, I was thirsty, I was hungry, I was tired....all can be summed up with the simple fact that I had decided, for some reason, that I was going to have a "bad run."

Once you've told yourself "I'm having a bad run," that's exactly what you do--and no amount of stretching, loosening, hydration, good conversation, or encouragement can talk your mind out of the funky dark place it has wandered into of its own accord.

What is it in us that does this? I know full well that my body is willing, is in fact, stronger than it has ever been. I know that my legs will usually loosen up within a few miles. I know that 2 liters of water is enough, that the amount of calories consumed is on the shy side, but still sufficient. I know that the treadmill is, in fact, easier than running outside, and that the distance is shorter than my weekly long runs.

But none of this mattered on Thursday, when I was having a "bad run." None of it mattered at all, as I climbed into that dark place, and shamelessly wallowed in my self-imposed self-misery. No amount of gentle teasing by my other half, no chatter about picking up the new puppy next week, no discussion of news, work, and life could pull me from the deep well of grumpiness I'd rolled directly into.

These runs for me fulfill only one purpose, and perhaps this is why they exist at all--they serve as a reminder of how much we should appreciate the other runs--the runs that leave our minds singing, our legs turning, and our bodies feeling fast, strong and capable, as though there is no distance too great, no hill to high, no turn to sharp, no end to the possibilities incarnate.

As we finished our 11 miles, Jared having pushed me to it, I was happy--happy we were finished, happy to have done the distance, and happily, looking forward the next, better run.

Special props to my beloved on both of these runs--on Wednesday, though cranky about it, he got out of our warm bed, and slugged through some cold miles. On Thursday, he not only ran next to me for 2 hours on the dreadmill, but also forgave me my surliness, and pushed me to go further than I wanted to...gently, but firmly, ensuring that we'd both feel good about the day's miles. This run will likely be our last long run together before the Hyannis Half Marathon on February 22, as next week will likely hold a taper. Wish us luck!