I ran my longest and close-to my best run today. 8 miles!
I’m ahead of my sped-up half marathon training schedule by a week, mileage wise (sped-up since I have lagged on distance as I’ve working on kicking the panic attacks first) and am finally feeling really good.
Like, really good.
More confident. More able. More excited with each run.
Today, M and I set out to hit 8 miles before it reached the 90s (and almost 100 degrees the next two days! Yikes), so the alarm went off at 5 am and I honestly jumped out of bed, excited to get started.
Compared to the dread I’d feel before, in the pit of my stomach, the nerves would start, and so would the voice of self-doubt.
I was excited and happy. The weather was ideal. Low 60s (!), zero humidity and partly cloudy skies. <–if the half marathon weather can be like this, I will kick ass. Just sayin. (weather Gods, are you listening!?)
We set out on the route I had in mind (I had a couple of options in mind, in case for any reason I started to struggle, we could go shorter). My legs felt great. My calves and shins felt great.
The first few miles went well, except my Nike+ run tracker had the sound on (even though I swear I turned it off!) and was giving me updates at each mile. Um, no thanks. I don’t need to know each mile, I’d rather run the mile I’m in (and thanks Ronda for that quote, yet again! LOVE it) and pace myself without thinking ‘okay, one mile down, SEVEN left? Ugh!’
After that minor snafu, we set into a good pace. M slightly ahead of me, but pulling back when I’d slow to regulate my breathing. He’s good at distracting me (like today, he recited the Pledge of Allegiance to me but added funny words to it. Too funny) or would start adding ‘hurdles’ and would run over brush or sticks, but super high, overly exaggerated. Hey, whatever works, right? (though, of course, I’m thinking, ‘he’s like an effing gazelle, look at him go, why can’t I go that fast and easily?!’ But I digress. I appreciate all he does to motivate me and keep me going! SO much.)
Halfway through, my legs started to feel heavy and I was thankful for a sip of water (thank you iFitness water belt. Something I never thought I’d do, but it totally helps! Thank you Heather and Naomi for suggesting!) and one of those Powerade Blox (way better than Gu. That stuff freaks me out).
Home stretch!! M started singing some song and then said “home stretch, babe, let’s go!!” and I took off, sped up at the end, and we made it. Took about an hour and a half and we managed 8.15 miles. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.
Running progress? I’d give that a hell yes. It feels like night and day to my panics, mental struggles and fear. Sure, that voice tried to make its way in when I started to struggle, but I didn’t let it. Kicked it back and just focused on the surroundings, M, and the beautiful morning.
And I daresay it worked.
Can I get an ass slap or a high five please? ;-P