hobbies running: my first 15 mile run running running a marathon running therapy
by Mommy Hobbies
In my napsack stash
This week was huge for me. Huge. Momentous. Pivotal. All that.
First off, I have to say that I was dreading this week. It was the week of the 15 mile run. I sweated about it, fretted about it and doubted myself. I kept thinking about my 13 mile run. What a horrible let down to myself that was.
Anyway, I tried to face this week with a smile, but I was afraid of this run. I didn’t want to quit. If I quite this time…well, … (let my lack of words tell you how deeply I felt about quitting mid-run)
So, I got up at 5:30 Saturday morning and drove out to my running site. I was rested, fed and ready. Well, as ready as I could ever be. I took to heart the words of the ever famous Run Like A Mother’s duo — “Don’t think, just go.” And so I did. I started out good. I made it to the halfway point, 7.5 miles, without incident. Those 7.5 miles took me clear into the next town, where I found a bathroom and promptly used it.
Mile 7.5 — back on the track. Fumbling around in my amphipod for my phone, called D to make sure he was up at ‘em with the kids. Cy’s first soccer game was in a couple of hours and D had yet to purchase a team t-shirt for him.
Miles 8 & 9 — getting a little tired
Mile 9.5 — Dog. I see it. It’s a little speck, but it’s definitely a dog. My heart thumps a little and I mentally kick myself for not bringing my mace. I start looking all over the trail for something, anything, a rock, a stick. Stick. Stick. That’s all could think of. I see one and grab it. I grip it good and I keep running at the dog. It’s off leash and wandering, alone, toward me. I keep running, and we make eye contact, it’s a pitbull mix and he passes me with only a side long glance. Breathe, Misha. Breathe. I don’t put my stick down for the next mile. My adrenalin pumping.
Miles 10 & 11 — It’s getting harder. It seems like forever now. My Garmin is chirping at me that battery is low. I hate it in that moment. Stupid Garmin, I charged you completely!!
Mile 12 — I glance down, and my Garmin is dead. *zoink* My mental head hits a brick wall.
Miles 13, 14, 15 — The longest 3 miles of my life. I didn’t know where I was at any given moment in the run and I wanted to know so badly. I wanted that assurance that I only had 2 miles left, a mile and a half left, a mile left. But I didn’t. I kept running. My legs were feeling floppy and my toe was hurting. I became acutely aware that my lower back was starting to ache. I tucked my tummy in for more support. Hadn’t I been supporting it this whole time?? I must have let up. Then, I noticed that my jaw was killing me. I let my mouth fall open to loosen it up. Gosh. Had I been clenching my jaw and didn’t know it? What was wrong with me?? I was in pain from my head to my toes.
Mile 15 — I know I’m in mile 15 and I want to weep. I can see where my car is parked up ahead. I am yelling at myself, as loud as I can in my head, “You can DO THIS!! DON’T STOP, MISHA!!!” I’m yelling, and running, and yelling and running. With each step I know I’m getting closer to my car and farther away from doubt and giving up. “What am I doing? I hate this feeling, I don’t like running and being this tired, thirsty or in pain. I’m stupid and crazy.” My car! I see it now.
Finish — When my hands touch my car, my legs give out. I breathe deeply trying to get as much oxygen as I can. I thought for sure this would be the moment when I would burst into tears and get all emotional. Nothing doing. All I can think about is water and the fact I want to rip my legs off. I stretch.
Finally, I’m back in my car heading toward my house. I’m about 4 minutes away when it hits me — I just ran, to completion, Fif.teen.miles. My throat gets really tight and the next thing I know I’m crying, hard, sobbing. I did it. No one else did that but me. I outran my doubt, disbelief in myself, and the people in my life who made me feel bad about who I am as a person. I tried to stop crying but I couldn’t. It felt really, really good to get those emotions out.
I put my mind to something and I did it. THAT is a feeling like no other.
I want to take this time to thank each and every person who has believed in me thus far. Thank you for your comments on my blog, on my Facebook page, in my email and in the mail. Your support helped me get through that run. It did. Thank you.