I put off training last weekend for the sake of some fun, including cartwheels, which led to a strained hamstring. The strained hamstring further delayed some necessary runs, which I learned were necessary, yesterday, when I attempted to run the eighteen miles I had previously neglected.
I had ran a sixteen mile route along the river a few weeks ago, so when planning out my route, I decided to just park a mile away from where I began the sixteen miles; the extra mile there and back makes eighteen. Problem solved.
Up to this point I haven't had any trouble at all, really, with my long runs. A little cramping here and there, but as far as endurance goes, it's actually felt too easy.
It was warmer outside than normal. I wasn't in the mood to exhibit self care, and was actually attempting this run, to an extent, to exhaust my body and my mind. I ate a bagel a few hours before, and brought along three packs of gu - running energy packs other marathon runners told me would be helpful. Around mile ten, in the heat of the afternoon sun and after running up an intense hill that was completely unforgiving of my delicate state, I hit what I think others refer to as "a wall". I stopped for a second, took a moment, and talked myself into going again with hydration on my brain. I had been passed a mile earlier by two women I had chatted with an hour or so before, and they told me tales of water just up the hill.
After reaching the top, with a look of death on my face and a predator sort of stare in search of said water as my prey, I noticed my moment's angel, in the form of Richard, a former customer from my time at Starbucks. Over the course of the past year, I had ran into Richard a few times here and there. Each time he would tell me a little more about his business plan, open up the binder that held its contents, and I would enjoy the look of joy on his face at the thought of pursuing something that he believed he would really enjoy. There he was, on top of the hill, living out his dream in the form of traveling a hot dog stand, Grilla Rays. And there I was, in desperate need of the bottled water stacked next to his feet.
He recognized my need, handed me two bottles, and I was revived, not just because of the water, but also because of the encouragement that came from Richard's friendliness and human connection. I left the moment exceptionally thankful, and began my trek to the end with the wall far behind me. That is, until mile fourteen, when my lungs felt like they were caving from the inside. I stopped, drank, and continued. Mile 14.27. Am I having an asthma attack? What in the heck is going on? Stop, drink, continue. "This is just mental, Meredith. This is where your mental strength must take control of your body. Your body will go." So I continue, can't breath, and again begin to gasp for air. I try to go again, taking slow breaths through my nose and slow steps from my feet, but at mile fifteen, I admit to myself that it's not mental, and that today, this is all I have to give. And so, both mentally and physically exhausted, and still finding it difficult to breathe, I officially stop.
Because of my brilliant eighteen mile planned route, I now have a three mile walk back to the Stratus. I labeled this walk, somewhere along its course, "the three mile walk of shame". I had needed and intended to run eighteen but ended up disappointing myself. I marveled at the fact that, after running fifteen miles, I can still feel a little bit like a failure. I also marveled at the joy that came from my walk of shame. There's something beautiful about stopping, strolling along, and breathing in life slowly after pushing yourself too far. That's what I did. I enjoyed watching the people I passed, the flowers, the man mowing and the girl in pigtails experiencing bliss on a bicycle...the woman riding her horse a bit below where I was walking, the view of Down Town Tulsa from way up high, and the joy that came from deciding my post-run-celebration-of-failure-meal. I had consumed nothing more than a bagel, half a pear, gu, and loads of water at this point in my day. I decided on a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries.
I am drawn to the challenging, the unattainable, and the difficult. Because of this, I am realizing that sometimes, I push myself farther than maybe I should. In the midst of my final days in Tulsa, this place that I have rooted myself deeply into, in the form of rich friendships and irreplaceable memories...I am going to stop, stroll along, breathe in these last four weeks slowly, and joyfully plan my celebratory-and-painful-uprooting-myself-from-Tulsa meal.
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