All I can say is that this was not my weekend when it came to running. I saw some friends, was incredibly productive and my kitchen is finally done!
But as for training- not so much. I tried. I failed. I tried again. I failed again.
After putting out a twitter request for pre long run meals that weren’t pasta, quite a few people recommended pepperoni pizza. Not the healthiest idea, but I was certainly willing to give it a try. I ate, changed into PJs and off to bed I went. At 10pm on a Friday. I’m so wild.
Despite my carbo-load, my full nights sleep and plenty of water/Gatorade; Saturday did not go as planned. Not even close. I went out with the hope of doing 13 miles. That was the “intermediate” distance on my training plan, which I’ve been trying to push myself toward. By mile 3, I could feel something just wasn’t right. Eating a Gu didn’t help either.
Once I was 4 miles in and I hadn’t gotten into any sort of groove, I just kept trying to push myself toward the next mini-milestone. I knew that wasn’t going to work for 13 miles, but I kept trying.
“Just make it to the next telephone pole”
“The end of the street isn’t that far, just make it there”
“You’ve run 26.2 miles before, and you’re having trouble by mile 4. Really?”
“You can drink a bottle of wine if you just finish this run. A whole bottle.”
Nothing. At mile 5 I could feel my breathing getting tighter, and I had to stop. Dead in my tracks, on the side of the road, with my phone in hand. I felt deflated and more upset with myself than I’ve ever been on a training run. I’m supposed to be running the Boston Marathon, and I couldn’t make it through 6 miles of hills in my own town? Pathetic.
I made my dad come pick me up. I went to the pharmacy, picked up a new inhaler (I know, I should have had one long before this and kept it on me. Stupid stupid stupid.), and I sat on the couch for an hour or so. After feeling completely defeated, I grabbed my car keys and headed towards the gym.
I figured at the gym I could get in a few miles on the treadmill, and that would be a save environment in case my asthma kicked back up. No being stranded 5 mies from home, trained staff all around me, maybe it would put my mind at ease. Well, it put my mind at east but it sure didn’t do anything for my lungs and legs. 2 miles later, I headed back home. More deflated than when I left. Awesome.
I’d like to say I went home, rested, woke up Sunday and owned that run. It didn’t happen. Yesterday? The 4 miles on the training schedule felt like 40. I went home to my glorious new kitchen and made myself a healthy pasta dish to try to cheer me up.
Even pasta wasn’t helping this mood.
I emailed Jeff (my coach from Miles for Miracles) last night and I’m hoping he has some advice.
Has anyone else ever been stuck in a training rut like this? I’ve never felt as discouraged as I do right now. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.