18 Miles. Period.

As Matt’s workday passed, I passed my day on the couch.  After breakfast, I fell asleep watching TV with a heating pad cradling my lower back.  I had a three hour nap and woke up still groggy.  Most of my symptoms seemed to let up so I headed for the trail.

The weather was as perfect as I could hope for.  The North Coast weather goes from summertime fog and drizzle to a spectacular fall.  September is typically the warmest and sunniest month of the entire year.  We applied the usual sunscreen as the sun beat down on our shoulders.  It was 60F with a slight breeze.

The first nine miles went off reasonably well.  It was the best run I could hope for considering how I felt in the morning. Cramps came and went throughout the run, and I realized that they often had more to do with my posture or hydration level than anything else.  I also enjoyed the taste of a new energy gel I bought, but the difficulty getting the package open while running will prevent me from using these in a race setting. 

The ocean’s surface sparkled like a bed of diamonds.  People flocked to the beach.  Birds flew effortlessly overhead.  Bikers and walkers were everywhere.  We usually have this route to ourselves.

Just one mile after the final opportunity for a bathroom, farts were no longer just gas.  I had to stop completely, tighten my glutes, and pray nothing would happen.  So about every half mile to the end, I found myself doubled over on the roadside, trying to keep myself together.  Bikers sailed by.  

Saturday morning, I awoke to the gut wrenching cramps of my monthly visitor.  The first day all but destroys me every month.  I’m plagued with intense cramps, a backache, embarrassingly explosive gas, and the frequent urge to poop.  This time it was also accompanied by nausea and slight dizziness.  Earlier this year, I had the misfortune of it landing on one of my “A” races, a half marathon in March and it was the absolute worst run of my life.

The sun was falling now and it cast a golden glow upon the landscape.  Cows, goats, and sheep watched me as I huddled in the grass.  I was a little jealous of the ram that pooped while he stared at me from the other side of the fence.  I always laugh a little of the irony of such intestinal distress occurring in a breathtaking setting.

I made it back to the car with 18 miles on my legs and nary an accident.  Success!  I had one long run like this in the spring, and I keep praying that I’ll never need to use this particular flavor of mental toughness in a race, because it just isn’t fun.

 

Hopefully the next long road run will be more fun :)