Yesterday I did my longest run to date. 9 miles. I woke up at 5:30am so that I could get the whole thing in and still have time to get to my Saturday morning classes by 9:30am (I like the be there by 9:15 at the latest, so on the weekends that means leaving my apartment no later than 8:30 since trains and public transportation in NYC on the weekends are goofy). So 5:30 it was. Truth be told, I didn't get out of bed until 5:40.
There were some really good things about my run yesterday and then there were some not so good things.
We'll start with the not-so-good:
I had the side stitch as soon as I got out of bed, so I am thinking perhaps I actually pulled or bruised something small. I tried a lot of different things that I researched to try and alleviate it, even stopping between mile 1 and 2 to do a good stretch or two (I paused my workout). But it would come and go. I think it will go away on its own after some more runs, and it does disappear from time to time, so I'm going to put this one on the "to watch" category and just hope it deals with itself.
I forgot to eat. I was worried about leaving by 6 because if I didn't leave by 6 and I had a bad run or had to walk I might not make it home in time, and in all th
at hubbub I forgot to eat. I don't particularly like eating before running, and for short runs (under 3 or 4 miles) I think I can manage, but normally I'll try to eat a banana and some cereal maybe. Maybe I should try those GU gel thingies? And keep one in my pocket for midway through...
But let's move on to the good:
was BEAUTIFUL! And I was surprised (I'm always surprised) at how many people are out so early on a Saturday. But I'll be honest, every time I started to feel fatigued or like I wanted to quit, I would think "You are among these people! A
nd try to think of any of your friends who are awake right now and doing something like what you're doing!" (no offense, friends!) I found it helped me focus back on what I was doing and why I was doing it.
I finished my 9 miles at a 9.04 pace. WHAT??? I'm just shocked. I really did push at the end of my run, the last half mile or so, and I thought I would throw up (which would have been awful since I ended about 20 yard from a huge group of people waiting for free vaccinations from the ASPCA...ew...)
The other great thing about my pace was that I ended up getting home with more than enough time. I couldn't dilly-dally around, but I had enough time to get ready, eat a real breakfast, pack a lunch. It was a good day.
So I didn't puke, but I also didn't cry, which was a strong second possibility. On my run I was thinking about something the DBF said, which was: "I thought your blog was going to be about running, I didn't know it would be so... personal."
I debated calling this blog "Don't tell me what I can't do!" (a la Locke on Lost) but that blog is taken. And then I thought it better to speak in a more positive voice, so along came Anna Lise Is.
And one of the things I want to see myself as is an athlete, but it's more than that. It's wanting to see myself as a person whose body is competent. Strong. Faithful. I want to treat my body with the respect that I want in return, to feel confident in it. And to know it was perfectly made for me to do the things that I can do.
At the end of yesterday's 9 miler, I was hit by both an urge to puke and an urge to cry. And I think both are a good sign. Somewhere between yesterday and the day before I grew closer to being the athlete I want to be. Any person whose body can take them through what I went through for an hour and a half yesterday has a body that is ready. For anything. And that's what I want to be.
I am ready.