Monday, September 2, 2013

Is It Worth It?


Just recently at a Weight Watchers meeting, the topic of the week was “Is it worth it?”  The general gist was that before you eat something – especially if it’s something that couldn't be described as "healthy" – you have to decide if it’s “worth it”.  In other words, are you eating it because you are (bored, tired, sad, happy, add in your favorite emotion), or are you eating it because you really just want it, are going to enjoy it, and not feel guilty afterwards?  What gets confusing is that it’s not just the food you have to weigh in on (no pun intended), but the actual moment.  Take a box of graham crackers.  Graham crackers are my “red light” food, which can be explained this way: 1 graham cracker is way too many for me, and 10,000 of them isn’t enough.  I am convinced that the word “crack” is in the name for a reason.  If on my way home I get caught in a downpour, my umbrella breaks on the way to Grand Central, then my train leaves late and the air conditioner is broken (which actually may not be so bad if I’m soaked to the bone), I could easily get home and rip into a box of graham crackers because I’m (pick an emotion from before.  Not “happy”, though.  One of the other ones).  But I hadn’t planned it into my calories for the day, my commute won’t improve, and I’ll feel so guilty about it afterwards that I’ll have to go out and buy another box of graham crackers to make me feel better.  Not worth it.  But, if I have a nice long workout, eat well all day and then make my ridiculously delicious lemon cream pie with a graham cracker crust (and it’s a Weight Watchers recipe.  I cannot tell you how many people I have fooled with that one, bwahahahahah) that I had planned on and budgeted the calories for, then it is worth every sweet and tangy bite.  Yum.

My apologies.  I’m not trying to become a Weight Watchers leader or make you crave creamy lemon pie with a graham cracker crust.  I’m actually setting you up to explain my long run today.

Today’s long run is 15 miles.  I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by it (read: am completely freaking out about it) for a few reasons.  First, for some reason this training plan jumps from a 12 mile run to a 15 miler, without the nice foreplay of a half marathon distance in between.  This is also the first week I’ve had since I started training for the NYC Marathon where I am able to do all 4 weekly runs, rather than having to replace one with a deep water run because my foot hurt too much.  And finally, this week is the set up to pretty much every weekend long run between now and the marathon being in the teens of miles.  In other words, this is when it gets serious.  This is the point where the mileage gets pretty intense for the next couple of months, and I really have to decide if all this hard work is worth it.

Because of my foot, and not wanting to re-break it when I’m 7-1/2 miles from home, I decide to do my 15 mile run as 3 loops of 5 miles each.  This way, if I re-break my foot, I won’t be more than 2-1/2 miles from home which is much more intelligent (yes, it’s stupid to be training for a marathon on a newly healed foot.  I didn’t say it was intelligent.  I said it was “more” intelligent).  The beauty of this is that I hate carrying anything on my run (truly, I would run naked if I didn’t think people would see me coming towards them and start screaming, “Owwww!  My eyes!  My eyes!”), so I can leave all my water, gels and a towel at the bottom of my stoop and can refuel after each loop.  The problem is that every 5 miles I will be at the bottom of my stoop, able to quit if I want to.

I start my watch, hit play on my iPod (the only thing I don’t mind carrying with me, and only because I have one of those teeny ones that clips on to your shorts or shirt, and I have to admit that even that bugs me a little), and take off on loop #1.  Because it’s pretty early on a Saturday and my town is basically still asleep, I decide to run right on the main street of Pelham.  This is kind of fun; I never run in this direction and I’m enjoying the change of scenery.  It is not super hot out, but it’s fiercely humid, and within minutes I am already sweaty and pretty uncomfortable.  I also forgot how hilly this street becomes once you run through the main part of it, and I’m cursing myself every time I hit a big incline.  I’m still doing intervals of 4 minutes running mixed with 2 of walking, but seemed to have synchronized the running part perfectly with every single uphill.  Ugh.

The first 2-1/2 miles comes pretty quickly and I happily turn around to go home.  I tell myself that I feel great and this run really isn’t hard at all – until I remember that I have 2 loops to go.  The humidity is pretty unbearable, and by the time I get home my shirt is completely soaked.  So, after drinking what feels like a gallon of water and eating a gel, I run into the house just to grab another shirt.  My husband, Wil, sees how sweaty I am, and I complain to him, “I’ve only done 5 miles!”  His reply: “Great!  You only have 10 more to go!”  I don’t know if I want to hug him or slug him.

With a dry tank top on, I head out for loop #2.  I enjoyed a new route so much on the first one that I decide to trail blaze again.  This time I run in the completely opposite direction of where I usually go, which will have me run right out Pelham and into Eastchester.  I start my run, and after the second turn I realize what an idiot I am.  I am running the route that I drive every Saturday afternoon on my way to go food shopping – the route that has absolutely no sidewalks after the first mile or so, and practically no shoulder to the road.  The route that whenever I see a runner or biker on, I think “what a dumb ass;  there’s no sidewalk or shoulder.”  Well, today that dumb ass is me.

This loop is no fun at all.  First, every time I run around a blind, tight turn, I try to remember if I’ve left my will in a prominent place.  Second, this is getting difficult.  My legs are getting sore and it feels like a rainforest out here, it’s so muggy.  Third, I’m just suddenly nervous.  Run 15 miles?  I can’t do that!

I breathe a sigh of relief when my watch registers 7.5 miles and I can turn around and head home.  My life doesn’t flash in front of my eyes as much at each turn like it did on the way out, and before I know I’m back where there’s sidewalk and turning towards home.

My shirt is soaked again, so I head back inside to change one more time.  As I come out of the bedroom, Wil meets me in the hallway and asks how it’s going.  “Terrible!  It’s so hard!  And I still have one more loop!”  And he gives basically the same answer: “Cool, only 5 miles left.  Enjoy!” and he walks away.  Yup, I definitely want to slug him.

As I head back down my front steps, my legs are getting tight and my calf muscles are complaining.  I ignore them and got out for the final loop.  This time I decide to take my usual route.  Although I run different distances, the first 2 miles out for all my runs is exactly the same.  I decide to do those and tack a ½ mile on somewhere after that.  I don’t want anything new.  I want what I know and what I know I can do.

This last loop is almost impossible.  My legs are killing me.  I am really struggling to run even in 4 minute spurts.  I’m not sure if it’s the heat, if I’m just not ready for a 15 mile run yet, or if marathon training is really only for the truly crazy and I finally clue in that I have completely lost my mind.

During one of my 2 minute walk breaks, I ask myself what’s going on.  Suddenly, I think I know.  I completed about ½ of my training for the New Jersey marathon in 2012 and got hurt (not my foot. This one was the injury I bitched about most of last year, not the injury that I’ve been bitching about most of this year.  Keep it straight, please).  Then I trained for all of the NYC marathon in 2012 and it got canceled.  That’s a lot of long runs and not a lot of marathons to show for it.  What if I get hurt again this year?  What if my foot wins this battle I’ve been having with it?

I think about it.  I love running.  I love challenging myself.  I love that the runs are long and difficult.  I love completing them and feeling that sense of accomplishment afterwards.  Yes, the marathons themselves are an amazing destination, but just the journey itself is a hell of an accomplishment.

I’d love to say that I inspired myself so much that the rest of the run was an absolute breeze, that I practically skipped through those last 5 miles.  Not even close.  It was torture.  Because of this truncated training plan, the fact that I’ve had to bail on some runs when my foot hurts, and that I’m trying to run/walk through a a training plan that is intended for pure running, this marathon is clearly going to be hell. 

I finally get home, drag myself up my stairs for the 3rd time this morning and go inside.  After I finish dousing my head in the kitchen sink in an effort to cool down a little, Wil bravely walks into the kitchen and asks, “How was it?”  The answer is easy: “Totally worth it.”

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