And donâ€™t let anyone tell you otherwise.
I set out for my run at 9:30 this morning (not as early as I had planned, not as late as Iâ€™ve been going the past few weeks). My Garmin picked up a signal immediately (this does NOT usually happen), I had some good tunes on my playlistâ€”I thought it was going to be a good run. Iâ€™d planned on running 7â€”4 out, 3 back. (Turning around when youâ€™re more than halfway done makes the second part feel way shorterâ€¦because it is.)
Iâ€™ve been walking more than Iâ€™d like to on my recent runs, because ITâ€™S REALLY HOT. Running in NYC in July in this heat wave feels like Iâ€™m running but not going anywhere. I fight for each breath, for each step. Still, I fight on; each step is bringing me closer to the Chicago Marathon.
Anyway! I didnâ€™t stop at all to run the first four, so I expected the last three to be as easy as the first four; the second part is usually the best part of my run. Today, miles four through seven were absolute hell. My hip flexors were tight. My quads were tight. My breath was ragged. (Thank you AccuWeather, for telling me that it is a â€œgood running dayâ€ and a â€œbad asthma day;â€ a bad asthma day also equals a bad running day.)
I hurt like hell, walked a ton and just generally didnâ€™t want to finish. I stopped at about 5.6 to lay down on a bench and stretch. I was hugging my knees to my chest (partially as a stretch, partially because all I wanted to do was roll up into a ball). A couple stopped and the man told his girlfriend/wife that the stretch I was doing was really good for your back. We got to chatting, and she was training for an Ironman! She was halfway through a 20-mile run. If she was doing 20 in this weather, I could certainly finish the last 1.5 miles of 7. So, I did. Slowly, but surely. I got whatâ€™s turning into my tradition of a post-run bagel:
Later, I went to Cowgirl Seahorse for dinner. After not eating since the bagel, I was famished. We started with coconut shrimp, and then I got the â€œcaptainâ€™s platter,â€ which was lots of seafood. I was so hungry that I didnâ€™t equate â€œbatteredâ€ with fried, and what came was a giant plate of fried fish. I was too hungry not to eat it, but boy did I regret that decision. Fried food when you already have a sensitive stomach (and donâ€™t usually eat it) AND have run seven miles that morning? Hell.