Last Sunday’s race was a dream. I PR’d by nearly a half hour and got my legs back in shape just in time for Thursday’s tempo run. I ran 7 miles in an hour and felt as if I had some sort of magical powers. Maintain a 8:30 pace just days after my PR? I can do anything!
Saturday’s 22 miler will be a freakin’ breeze! I can go out for wine and cheese and watch the sunset on the Hudson! And I can drink copious amounts of wine! 22 miler, I will own you come Saturday morning!
Guess again, Abbe Lew.
I slept in on Saturday morning which wasn’t part of the plan. I drank coffee and convinced myself that I wasn’t tired. I left the apt. at 9:00 with high hopes of completing my run somewhere around 12:00.
That plan rapidly backfired. I was tired, my allergies started to act up, and I so wanted to walk back home and crawl into bed. Also, it turns out that eating chips, salsa, cheese, and drinking copious amounts of wine is not conducive to a long run (who knew?). Don’t worry, I ate pasta. But that was post-sunset watching and I was quite full by the time the pasta plate arrived in front of me.
I ran up to Harlem to drop off a very important item for Bojana’s marathon (friendship bracelets RULE). I felt warmed up and thought I could bang out the rest of my miles in Central Park, tackling the hills and using the fountains as water stops (hooray! the water fountains have been turned on for spring!). Wrong again. Severe cramping arrived around mile 8 and stuck with me for the remaining four miles I was able to squeeze out of my body. My constant run/walk gave in and I realized that my body was actively rejecting the idea of me running any further. With pains in my chest and side, I sat down on a sidewalk by the reservoir and pouted a little. My 22 mile day was finished and it was time to go home.
Turns out, I don’t have magical powers. I am not a superhero. I can’t run a great race and bust out a long training run six days later with energy reserves consisting of wine and cheese. I also can’t ignore what I was born with. Springtime means allergies for me as I’m severely allergic to all things in bloom, particularly all types of grass and pollen. It took Daddy Lew to remind me of this when I told him what happened (well at least someone remembered). So I’ll take this weekend’s failure of a run and learn from it. You have to pay to play, after all.
And as a side note, watching reruns of South Park with His Lordship for makes for a great Saturday afternoon recovery.
Jimmy slays me every time.