Thursday – 4.5 Miles, Check!
I spent most of the day Thursday in a polo shirt and shorts. Three days prior, I was in every article of warm clothing I owned and praying that the thermometer would hit 40 degrees.
I had almost forgotten what it was like to sweat while running. Luckily, Texas weather has a very poorly managed case of bipolar, and so I was blessed with 75 degrees and sunny skies for Thursday’s run.
After a cumulative 8.5 miles on Tuesday and Wednesday, my calves (and my whole body, really) were begging me not to hit the pavement on Thursday. Naturally, I went anyway. Whoever said “listen to your body” is obviously an idiot.
It was a tough run – I think because I was just physically exhausted – but I still managed to turn in 10:30ish splits, and that’s okay. I’d like the pace to be closer to 10:00, or even 9:30, but that’s probably unrealistic for a Thursday run.
Saturday – 7 Miles, Check!
Drop the balloons, pop the confetti, and crank the tunes, bros and broettes – this is officially the farthest I’ve ever run in one go.
At this point, every “long run” on the weekends will likely be a new record for me as my mileage increases, and I’m totally okay with that. It gives me something to get excited about!
It really didn’t occur to me that seven miles was a lot of miles until I started mapping out my course on MapMyRun.
I said this to Sarah, and I still think it sounds idiotic, but it makes sense in my head and she insists that it makes sense to her: until you map it out, you don’t realize just how far seven miles really is.
It’s not a jog around the neighborhood. It’s not a “pretty far” jog. It’s a log effing distance.
I know those of you who are regular long-distance runners are probably chuckling, but take into consideration the fact that, even six months go, running three miles was to me what running… I don’t know… eleventy-billion would be for you.
The best part about Saturday’s run was how easy it actually was.
I remember “back in the day” when I’d hit my driveway after GRINDING through a 40-minute two mile run. (Yeah, you read that right… 20-minute splits).
Covered in sweat like I’d just been dunked in a pool, light-headed and seeing stars from the exertion, beet red, and completely out of breath.
And I felt like I’d just climbed Everest.
Saturday I ran seven miles at a ten minute pace, and if I’d have had a running partner, I could have carried a very easy conversation the entire way. I got home, plopped down on the couch, had a sip of water, and that was it.
Does that mean running is “easy” for me now? No. I don’t expect it to ever be “easy”. It’s still challenging… but it’s a challenge that I love, even on the days when I don’t want to run, or the days when my legs are screaming at me to stop, or I’m exhausted from a hard day at the office.
On a scale from 1 to white girl, “I can’t even” about how far I’ve come.