Prior to this past Saturday, I was keeping up perfectly with my training schedule... and then Saturday's run happened. I was scheduled to run 12 miles, but I quit after a measly 9 miles. The run started unbelievably hot at 5am. It was 85 degrees at the start and that's without calculating in the humidity and feel like temperature. Unfortunately, the sad reality of training for a marathon during the middle of summer in Florida is that the only chance we have for cooler, bearable temperatures is if it rains. Not only was the weather miserable, but my body was also kind of miserable still recovering from the shitty week of stomach pain. During the run I started to experience some stomach pain around mile 4. I was able to run through the pain for the most part though. I think what did me in were the cramps in my legs around mile 8.5. I'm not sure if the cramps were from dehydration or what, but my body was pretty much screaming at me to STOP, so I quit! Anyways, I've got plenty of excuses and I feel like a huge wimp and slacker for deciding to throw in the towel at mile 9.
Now, I find myself behind on training. I'm bummed about it because I've been working so hard to stay on track and one run just completely put me off my target mileage. I'm scheduled to run 14 miles this Saturday, but I know realistically that's not going to happen. Technically, my longest run this season has been 10.5 miles, so 14 miles would be too big of a jump. My new goal for Saturday is to run 12 miles. I seem to be hitting the proverbial wall at mile 9 or 10. I have to dig deep and keep pushing myself in order to reach my goals.
Sometimes I forget that running is hard. Not only that, but it's easy to forget that training for a marathon is difficult, too. Yeah, okay, I should know better; however, I still catch myself thinking that crossing the finish line in November is guaranteed. In distance running, the miles demand respect. With less than four months away from race day, I need to embrace the doubt dancing around in my thoughts (that I've been ignoring) because I need that doubt to motivate me to keep training hard.
I consider myself a very self motivated person. Most of you know that I didn't tell my mom when I entered the NYC Marathon lottery because I didn't think she would approve of my decision to do it and I didn't want to hear her bitch about my bad life choices. Well, when I told her I won the lottery into the race, she left me feeling judged and underestimated. Ever since my DNF (did not finish) at the Disney Marathon in 2013, in her eyes my running ability is tainted because of Crohn's even though I finished the Dopey Challenge strong the following year in 2014. Earlier this week my mom complimented me on how hard I've been training and offered to buy me a Garmin watch to help track my stats. She verbally recognized that this race is a big deal and also offered to buy a picture package if they offer one for professional course race pictures because she knows how much this race means to me. I'm overwhelmed and shocked by her sudden support. In fact, it made me cry. You know, no pressure or anything, but I really don't want to fuck up crossing the finish line. Strangely enough, I want to make her proud. Here's to getting back on track one mile at a time.
