Today's run was short, only 3 miles. Since I'm coming out of training for a 15k, 3 miles should not be a big deal. The way I ran this morning, it was like 3 miles was 20 miles. I was looking forward to the run, as it would be the first after a week of rest induced by shin-splints. I don't usually run in the morning, but an unusually early bedtime last night had me ready to be up and on the road.
I started strong, feeling good, running an 8:28 mile. This is entirely too fast for me; I usually sit somewhere between 9:10 - 9:30, depending on the distance I'm running. Still, I was feeling good.
Then, I bonked.
Right around mile 1.5 I hit the wall. I was almost certain I was going to throw up. I slowed down, but I couldn't even keep a slow pace, so I walked, which is terribly demoralizing when you're not planning on it. Plus, the street crossing gods were not on my side today. Almost every intersection I came to had an orange hand, instead of my friendly little neon walking man.
I finished my planned course in a walk-run-stagger pattern. Somewhere along the way I cried, and when I got home, I threw up. (Hey - I promised to be honest.)
Lest you think, "And this girl wants to run a marathon?!," let me assure you that there are a lot of other things going on in life this week are making everything, including running, a challenge. I am discouraged, and this disappointment of a run reflects my emotions.
Still, training (and life) happens one day at a time, by putting one foot in front of the other and leaving the disappointing miles behind. Tomorrow will be a new day.
There were two things that made me smile this morning:
1. When I arrived home, I found a gnat squished on my forehead. Normally this would be disgusting, but it made me feel like I'd been moving as fast as a car on a road trip.
2. Anyone who runs in Baltimore City gets the pleasure of running along the Harbor, where mornings feature still, flat water and a beautiful view of a distant sunrise. This is a gift.