Because of the yoga retreat, I was unable to do my long run on Sunday. I decided I’d run home after work on Monday night. 32k, no big deal, right? The weather was perfect. I had originally mapped out a route that zig-zagged through the city, but after a few kilometres, I decided to take advantage of the great weather and the possibility of getting home faster and take the waterfront as far west as I could. I don’t have a Garmin, so I needed to eyeball this change of plans. I figured if I ran 1:45 in one direction and turned around and ran home, I’d be pretty close to 32k.
I felt strong and good about being outside, near the water. At 1:30 into the run, I met a natural turning point and decided to take it. I didn’t want to be in a strange neighbourhood in the dark. I turned around. Things felt good — and they did until about the 2:50 mark. At that point, I felt I had to be close. I did 30k in 3:07 during Around the Bay, and this run felt fast. I headed north a bit to add kilometres. I headed home. Came in the house whimpering. Checked out my route on Google maps.
What. the. hell.
I had no choice. I put my socks and shoes back on. I headed out, into the darkness. I slogged through 4 more kilometres. I was upset and really, really frustrated. It was almost midnight. I was so sore and tired. Was this even worth it?
I know, at this point, those 4 kilometres are for mental preparation, not physical. It’s only 4k. At this point, I could run 4k in my sleep. But, deep down, I am terrified about this marathon. I needed another 30k+ run under my belt.
I came home. The result? 32.3km in 4:09:07.
I’m disappointed in this result. My last 32k was brutal, I whined and whimpered and felt awful. This time I felt strong and fast and good about myself. And yet, it was slower.
Running is ridiculous.
One more run over 30km. Then it’s taper time.
The run: 32.3k in 4:09:07