Ever feel like you're going crazy?
I live where it is flat; I usually don't get to ski much. This winter I decided to focus myself athletically and set a goal. That goal was/is the St. Louis Marthon on April 9th. I've been running a decent amount (10-15 miles/week) for the last couple of years and have entertained notions of running a marthon in a "before I die" kind of way. Well, it was decided that this would be the time. I've been ramping up my running since late December and I'm starting to hit the key training weeks of 30-40 miles. It has become normal running 10 miles on a Saturday morning. This last week of training has left me pondering my sanity:
Wednesday I have a scheduled 7 mile run. My training partners are all going at times that conflict with my schedule except for one seriously confused individual who is running at 6:30 in the morning. I decide that it's better to wake up and have the day suck than running alone for an hour (inevitably I push myself harder when by myself and end up dying in the end). I set my alarm for o'dark hundred and fall asleep. I wake up on Wednesday morning and good old weather.com says 32 degrees with slight snow showers. Since I'm too lazy to look outside, I throw on lightweight tights and a baselayer and head out the door. F-This it's colder than a siberian huskies nuts and the snow is coming down Utahesque. I run back to my room for thicker clothing and a facemask and head out to meet my running partner. In the back of my mind I hope that he's not crazy enough to run in this weather, and I can retreat to my dorm blaming it on him. Unfortunately he's thinking the same thing so we make each other go. My black clothing turns white with sticky snow and then black again as it melts, chilling me to the bone. We half expect cross country skiiers to pass us on the trail. I see people fishing and mentally call them crazy and then realize they are thinking the same thing at me. It is a long hour, and I question my sanity for the next few days of my life. Until.....
Saturday, 15 miles. A few of us drive out to St. Charles, MO to run along the banks of the *scenic* Missouri River on the Katy trail. Stopping at the local McD's to use the restroom prerun makes us realize we are not wanted. Small hick towns and running tights don't exactly get along.... We ignore the stairs and proceed to the so-called scenic trail. It is anything but. We pass a junkyard and go underneath a highway while on this state park trail. After 2 miles the trail dies and turns into a muddy field. We turn around and head back with an extra pound of mud on each shoe. We then realize we went the wrong way. Maybe the other way is scenic? No. First we see a casino, then a rock-crushing facility, and finally a two mile stretch of forest. The run ends up being mislabeled and we go for 3 hours. We think we did maybe 18 miles. Today I cannot walk up or down stairs without my knees conspiring to send me down them rather painfully.
So why do I feel like I'm crazy? Because I'm ready to run again next week.
