A slice of humble pie

[I am still on my tropical vacation in mid-MO but wanted to squeeze in a post while I'm here. I guess my desire to blog has returned!]

I freely admit to being a perfectionist. I'm competitive and Type-A and can be my own worst critic at times. I absolutely hate to fail. Hate it.

Last Saturday I failed miserably and I just can't seem to let it go. So why not blog about it, right? I've already overanalyzed everything a dozen times over but I'm hoping you readers can help me move on and 'jump back on the horse' if you will. It would be just as easy for me to ignore this event on my blog because it's pretty embarrassing, but I feel that I need to be truthful to my readers. And so I will swallow my pride and admit to sucking it up big time.

Saturday was our 15 mile run during our trip to mid-Missouri. To say that it was a bad run might be the biggest understatement in the history of the blogosphere---it was pure torture. I almost died and I'm not even joking. I seriously considered making a pit stop at one of the local hospitals to beg for IV fluids but that would have consumed too much energy I did not have. Would you like to hear more?

Here is the cliff notes version: The first five miles were great---no problems at all. Mile 6 and 7 started to suck and by mile 8 I asked Nate if we could walk just a minute. I couldn't catch my breath and I was completely out of my tiny bottled water. We started to run again and I had a minor panick attack: my brain would not shut up! All I kept thinking was, "I cannot do this, I'm going to die, we will be stranded in the middle of nowhere and I'm going to pass out." But then I'd think, "This is only a few hours out of the day, it's going to be over soon and I'll be proud of myself for finishing. It's just a stupid run, suck it up. Pain is temporary, pride is forever. Just do it." [you can see that good advertising comes in handy during a long run] It might qualify me as schizophrenic because I talked to the voices in my head for a good few miles before caving in to the negativity.

At 11.5 miles I asked Nate to walk again. He looked over at me an noticed that I was no longer sweating, then he pulled the plug. " We are walking the rest of the way. You aren't even sweating anymore, your body is so dehydrated you could start cramping up. It's not worth gettting hurt over, Julia. It's just a stupid training run. I know you are mad at yourself but it's not worth it. It's okay and I love you."

I tried to plead with him a bit, claiming that I just needed to catch my breath and then we could run the remaining 3 miles. But he wouldn't buy it...and that is another reason why I love him so much:) Even walking those last 3 miles was painful and by that time Nate felt it, too. When we arrived at the car I couldn't decide if I was going to vomit or pass out but all I wanted to do was sleep. I couldn't even force myself to drink water which is very bad. Arriving back at the house was an ordeal because I couldn't talk at that point, and promptly laid on the couch and slept for 1.5 hours while my dad informed me that I didn't look so good. I felt much better after that power nap and even regained my ability to speak!

Three factors played a part in this Death Run:

1. Poor hydration and nutrition

2. Poor timing/lack of planning

3. The Katy Trail=outdoor treadmill from hell.

[1] Since we did not leave Milwaukee until 5 p.m. on Friday night, we did not arrive in Jefferson City until 1 a.m. I purposefully decided to drink very little water during our road trip because I didn't want to stop and pee every hour. I also declared that fried cheese curds and a Diet Pepsi would be my preparatory dinner for the next day's run. I told Nate that the cheese curds were like tiny balls of energy that would propel me to a victorious time the next day. And I realize now that I am an idiot. Stupid Culvers and their mouth-watering delights!

[2] Since we didn't get in until 1 a.m. and we had to stay up chatting for awhile, we needed to sleep in a bit on Saturday. We finally awoke at 9 a.m. but of course, we had to eat breakfast and chat some more, fully basking in our vacation glow. By 11:00 we figured we should probably get dressed for the dreaded run even though neither of us was too excited. The local news continuously exclaimed, "The weather is amazing out today, nice and cool at around 85 degrees for a high." Yes, 85 degrees is much cooler than last week's triple digit temps but in Wisconsin's book, it still ain't 'cool.' And let's not forget that Missouri always manages to throw mad humidity at your face when you walk out the door, even when it's only 85 degrees.

[3] The only trail in my hometown that does not involve a hill set at a 45 degree angle is the Katy Trail. It's technically a bike trail, made of gravel, that stretches across the whole state. We ran 10 miles on it a few years back and I remember it being very scenic and relaxing. I WAS WRONG. The Katy Trail is a narrow, uneven path, amidst tons of boring trees. I swear that every bush and every leaf were clones of each other. The scenery never changed and generally sucked. Nate said it best when he said, "We might as well be running on a treadmill right now." In Milwaukee, we are spoiled by the gloriously open lakefront, full of people and varying landscapes. So staring at the exact same path surrounded by hot and sticky shrubbery is my new idea of hell.

So the way I see it, I have two options: 1. Quit now and avoid future failure. Maybe I should stick to half-marathons anyway. Maybe my mind and body simply cannot handle these extreme distances. Or, 2. Learn from this experience and vow to do better next time. I know that the second option is what I should do but it's scary, people. What if this happens again? What if I am too much of a headcase to stay mentally focused?

I realize that running is 90% mental and I must admit: I haven't been in the right state of mind for the past few weeks. I've been burnt out and crabby and negative about a whole lot of things. Nate called me Miss Bad Attitude and the name suited me well. I'm sure this played a big role in my craptastic run but now that I've had a break from everyday life, I'm feeling more like my old self again [thank goodness!]

I know we need to start taking these long runs more seriously. No more boozing and pizza slamming the night before a 15+ mile run. I need to drink water like it's my job, I need to stretch a lot more, and I need to figure out a way to become mentally tough. Two and a half months of intensive marathon training has taught me that my body can do this; but in these remaining 6 weeks I have to start training my crazy brain.

So readers, I ask you this: what inspires you? What keeps you going when you want to quit? And to the runners specifically: how do you push through 'the wall' and silence your inner demons when the run seems bigger than yourself?

Because we have a 16 miler coming up this weekend and I'm slightly freaking out...