Apr
2
19 is the loneliest number
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I ran 19 miles yesterday. NIIINETEEEEN. MIIIIIILES. I wish I had something uplifting to say about that, like how empowered I felt at the end or how refreshing it was to be alone with my thoughts for so long and how I experienced many personal revelations as a result, but . . . no. It was exactly as hideous as it sounds, except maybe for the part where it rained like hell for twenty minutes because that was a little bit worse.
There are many things to hate about running that far but I think the part that’s even harder than the physical torment is the mental dreariness. Audiobooks help a little bit, but the vast majority of my brain is dedicated, the entire time, to broadcasting how much what I’m doing sucks and how good it would feel to stop and walk and maybe call a fucking cab, so I have to engage in this epic 3.5+ hour battle of telling myself to just keep going and while I do feel there’s a lot of benefit that comes from toughing out a hard situation by mile 16 or so it all just seems like INSANITY.
Plus, it was so lonely and desolate on the trail yesterday I felt about one eye-twitch away from drawing a face on my shoe and naming it Wilson. I’m not too proud to tell you I chased these geese, shouting “Don’t leave me! Don’t LEEAAAVE MEEEE!”
Never say never, I guess, but I can’t imagine doing this kind of training again. One and done is my current marathon motto, if I make it to May’s race in one piece. Which isn’t necessarily a sure bet, judging by how I had to start the day by snorting eight rails of ground-up Advil.
In completely unrelated topics, here is a video of my child, and a mesmerizing, if brief, background vocal performance of “The Hustle”.
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