Well, you can all breathe a sigh of relief. I ran 16 miles yesterday, and I’m still alive to write about it.
I can’t remember the last time I ran 16 miles. It was probably while training for that marathon back in 2006, and it was probably horrific. And by probably I mean definitely. During half marathon training I routinely run 14 miles, and have even pushed it to 15 a few times. But never 16 miles. That’s always been my threshold distance.
I was more nervous for this run than for a race. I set everything out the night before and even ate breakfast after Ruby’s 4:00 am feeding instead of going right back to bed. You know, to allow time for digestion and minimize the risk of crapping my pants. This sort of felt like the make it or break it run. Like I might not actually be capable of running a marathon if I couldn’t break the 16 mile barrier.
Well, dear readers, I’m happy to report that it went well. Really well, actually. Around mile 10 I started to feel tired and thought to myself, “Oh crap. I still have 6 miles to go. I’m going to fall apart.” Except for I didn’t. Instead, I started to unintentionally speed up. I use the term “speed” loosely here, of course. But up is still up, right?
I felt pretty good today too. I trailed a few ladies in the mom’s group for 3.5 miles this morning, and I’m looking forward to a rest day tomorrow. But I made it through and feel relieved to have overcome this mental hurdle.
I said the run felt good. I never said anything about looking good doing it.