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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