Sometimes you're the Louisville Slugger; Sometimes you're the ball

I've been at this training thing long enough to know that some days are going to kick your ass, and that a bad training day means nothing on race day.  Unfortunately, it doesn't make bad days any easier to take.  Saturday was our second-to-last BIG run before the LA Marathon -- 19 miles.  In a word, it was rough. I don't know why I think 19 miles would be anything but rough.  Coming off a strong 18 miler and a recovery week, I had hoped for the best, but it was a looong 3 hours and 5 minutes.

It would be great if I had some legitimate excuses.  The weather?  Perfect.  Clothing/gear?  Terrific.  Old shoes?  Nope, still new.  Hills?  Pretty flat.  Boring scenery?  Tourists travel around the world to see these sites.  I got nothing.  At least, nothing that I didn't have complete control over.

Friday night I limited myself to one beer, stayed hydrated, and went to bed early.  Check.  Our dinner selection, on the other hand, may have been a poor choice.  We decided to get takeout from Kabab Palace, which friends have given rave reviews, for the first time.  It was good, but takeout from a place that generally resembles NY Port Authority Bus Terminal is probably not the best call the night before 19 miles.  Pre-run jitters have been known to give me "stomach" issues, but I'm certain that the kababs didn't help matters.  Sticking to Italian from now on.

The run started off harmlessly enough.  Ran through the neighborhood out to the Mount Vernon trail and started heading north to the 14th Street Bridge.  I went out a little fast but kept my speed in check and was feeling good.  I felt stong.

I am going to crush this!

Subconsciously, I think that if I run slow enough, I can relax and enjoy and go forever.  Maybe this is the trick my mind plays on me so that I'll even attempt running these distances.   Unfortunately, it never works out this way. 

Over the bridge into DC by the Jefferson Memorial and south for a loop around Haynes Point.  This was the flattest section of the route and my pace started to slow considerably...this was when I knew I was in trouble.  Not really sure what happened.  I was getting calories, wasn't feeling pain...the leg turnover just wasn't there.  Greg had started pulling away from me here.  I could just barely see him hitting the public rest room up ahead.  When I got there I popped in myself to refil my water bottle then kept on going.  Greg was still in there...uh-oh.  Damned kababs!

Next on the route was a lap around the National Mall.  Greg quickly caught up to me and his bathroom run must have been a success because he left me in the dust.  My legs were starting to feel tired and just when I exited the Mall at the Lincoln Memorial I started to feel legitimate pain.  I made it over the bridge back to VA and got a little glimpse of Greg looping under the bridge and back down the Mount Vernon trail.  5 miles to go.

A few hundred yards back in Virginia my right calf started cramping so badly I couldn't help but cry out.  Geeze...I'm only at mile 14!  How can this be?!?!  Perhaps my body wasn't fully acclimated to the warmer temps.  I drank furiously...hoping that some extra fuel and hydration would help.  Stopped and stretched for about a minute.  Knew I had to keep going.  I'll be damned if I'm going to walk five miles.  I changed up my stride a little to rely on my glutes and hamstrings to push myself along and give my calf muscle some relief.  I recalled the teachings of our yoga guru, Bryan Kest... "we can be uncomfortable but we don't have to be so reactive to it."  I switched between thinking these words are genius and thinking they are a load of BS and this guy never ran this far!  But it does help to breathe and relax...absolutely.  One foot in front of the other.

At mile 17 with two to go, I am running in the dark, damp trail that goes below the GW Parkway and Route 1.  There was not a soul in sight and it was eerily silent.  I could suddenly hear my breath and the sound of my footsteps and used all my remaining energy to quiet both.  I tried to pick up the pace but I had nothing left.  At this point I just wanted to get home and not have to walk. Nothing could stop me.  I could barely bring myself to look both ways before crossing the street...it would take too much energy and too much time.

Let them hit me!

A few blocks from home, I see Greg walking towards me...my wing man, coming to escort me all the way in.  He was so far in front of me I half expected to see him on his cruiser bike.  He said the idea came to him but he didn't know how well that would be received.  I admit I might have had to put a stick in his spokes.  :) 

So yes, once again I was humbled by a long run.  It just doesn't get easier.  But here's hoping that with fresh legs on race day I can crank out faster miles.  Time (T minus 34 days) will tell.