Marathon Training, Week 2: A Little Fall of Rain

 

the aftermath.

This morning, I had the intention of running 9 miles. I find that if I don’t go out there with the distance I would like to run already ingrained into my brain, I get tired and want to stop. Telling myself before the first step that I would be running 9 is the only way I will actually run 9. So, at 8:30am, out the door I went to begin my journey.

It started off great, although a little humid (and by “a little” I mean water droplets were forming on my skin and I couldn’t see out of my sunglasses because they were fogged the instant I stepped outside). I walked the .5 miles to the park, and as I was almost there, it started to rain very, very lightly. A man in his front yard shouted as I went by, “It’s your fault it’s raining!” I assumed he was kidding so I laughed and said, “yeah right.” Then I briefly wondered if maybe it was my fault. Is that even possible? As I continued my philosophical discussion with myself, I reached the park and began the actual running portion of today’s show.

The first 4 miles felt pretty good. I was worried a bit that it was so humid I wouldn’t be able to make it to 9, but the very very light rain and the fact that the sun was mostly hidden made it bearable. I was glad it was raining, and thought to myself, “gee, I wouldn’t mind if it rained a little harder. It would feel good!”

You know how they say be careful what you wish for?

All of a sudden it started pouring. Like not just raining a little bit more, but a torrential downpour. I was nearing a tree, and worried about my iphone getting ruined (I really could not have cared less if I got wet – it was all about the phone), so I ducked under a tree for cover. I hung around for about 10 minutes, wondering in true dramatic fashion if i’d ever be able to continue, when it finally started lightening up. so I continued on, soaked but determined. It was a tad cooler (or I was just so soaked that it appeared to be so), so I picked up the pace, and did two more miles, virtually rain-free. I had to ring out my shirt about 10 times, but I finally felt like I was reaching the early stages of drying out. The 4 extra pounds of water I was now carrying did make the run a bit more challenging, but I’ve done it before, so I pushed onward.

I had just finished mile 6, when I heard a rumbling in the sky – yep, it was thunder. “Please just pass,” I begged of the Universe, however my pleas went unanswered and within a minute, it was raining again. Like “raining men” raining. It was coming down so fast, that I wasn’t even sure what to do at first. I quickly regained my wits, and headed toward a tree who’s trunk looked pretty dry so I thought I’d be offered some shelter from the storm.

I waited. And waited. And waited. The water began getting past the tree’s leaves and I was soon left with nowhere to hide. So I did what any sane person would do. I held my phone in my hands and bent over it so it wouldn’t get wet. As my back began getting more and more soaked, I again begged and pleaded with the Universe to make it stop. I started bargaining – “I’ll run all 9 miles if you make it stop now!” That didn’t work. At this point, I was the only person left in the park, so I started communicating with the Universe aloud, hoping that maybe if it heard my actual voice, that would work.

Apparently, the Universe doesn’t speak english. I raised my fist in a fit of rage as the water flowed all over me (but my phone was dry!). After about 20 minutes, I gave up and started crying. I guess the Universe felt sorry for me at this point, because it finally started to let up. I quickly strapped my phone back on my arm ran my last two miles, soaked and dying of thirst.  Although I was originally going to run 9, I settled for 8.5. My soaked clothes were heavy and so was my heart.

I finally got home, opened the door and the first thing my nephew said to me was, “Jeanine, why were you out running in the rain?”

I don’t know, but clearly it was my fault.

 

I’m a Real Runner Now! (I think).

This past Sunday, I ran the Broad Street Run for the 3rd time. Even though it’s one of the most crowded races I run (40,000 runners!), it’s still my favorite. I love running through the city of Philadelphia, seeing the street lined with cheering folks, from all walks of life, playing music, shouting out support, smiling, and waving. Plus it’s pretty freakin’ amazing to run through the very same city that I’m usually driving through, stuck in some kind of traffic, not looking at anything but the bumper inches in front of mine. The Broad Street Run provides an entirely new perspective. It gives new life to the city I’ve spent so much time with my head down in. Every building, every cross-street, every person becomes a wonderful site worth savoring as I wind my way with the crowd from the North end of the city to the South. The neighborhoods that are so vastly different, are joined seamlessly into one, but the endless stream of runners, and spectators. It’s kind of a spiritual experience, I suppose.

Anyway, this year, something was different. Not with the race, or the city or the crowd – something was different with me. For the first time, I felt like a real runner – a competitive runner. Someone who actually knew what they were doing, prepared accordingly, and actually ran kinda hard. There were 3 main reasons for this:

1. I dressed properly. In the past, I’ve worn clothes that I could run in, but I always had some weird thing going on – a shirt that made me too warm so I had to hold it, keys that I didn’t know what to do with, shorts that rubbed me the wrong way, etc. But this year, I finally had the outfit down. I had the right pouch to hold my keys, the right armband to hold my phone, and the right clothes to avoid being too hot, too cold or too chafed.

dressed for success with my partner in crime.

2. I wanted people to get out of my way. For the first time in any race I’ve ever run, I found myself getting annoyed when I came up behind someone who was slower than me. In the past, I felt relieved when this occurred, and slowed down to their pace, giving myself a break. Not this time. The last three miles in particular, I was determined to keep the pace I was running, and found myself dodging folks left and right, doing Indiana Jones-like sideways jumps between two runners with little space between them, hopping up onto the sidewalk, and muttering “c’mon!” under my breath. I’m becoming a monster.

3. I beat my previous time (by A LOT). My fiance always said that I could run faster, and as much as I hate to admit it, he was right. Not only did I crush my previous time, I felt FINE. I was in no pain that day, no pain the next day, and I could even run again. In the past, it took a good few days before I even considered running again after running a race longer than a 10k. But not this time. I could have run again that same day. But I’m not that insane (yet).

What does all this mean? Well for starters, all that running over the past 4 years has really paid off. And all that thinking that I couldn’t run any faster – that was a load of mental crap. Anything really is possible, once you decide that it is. I just hope this doesn’t mean it’s time to sign up for a full marathon. Yikes.