- OMG, the weather is sooooo amazing!! I finally got to run without any snot-cicles!
- My coach/training plan is evil, no human should ever have to run this much. I’m going to punch running in the face.
- Hooray! Race Report! Free watered down gatoraide!
- Oh my god, that run was so hot I think my face melted off. Why am I chaffing there!?
Saturday, I was scheduled for 20 miles that would cap off a 67 mile week. For the record, I hate 20 milers. Hate them like Charlie Sheen hates rehab. I do them because they are a necessary evil for marathon training and they make my friends and family ohh and ahh about how far I ran: “You ran TWENTY miles this morning?! It takes me half an hour to drive that far!” Why yes, I did run 20 miles, now out of the way while I eat this entire pizza.
Unfortunately, the 20 miler this weekend was one of my more miserable runs in recent memory. I had decided to sleep in a bit and play with my son before heading out onto the pavement. This gave the parched Arizona desert some time to heat up like the surface of the sun (Read: like 70 degrees) and the traffic time to get just thick enough that I had to stop at every single stoplight.
As I was getting ready, sitting on the toilet contemplating the Greek debt crisis and world hunger, I also thought about how I was dreading the run. There is something about running 20 miles that makes the pain of a marathon seem “real”. Gone are the ‘easy’ 15 and 16 mile runs. 20 miles means you’re close to the race. 20 miles makes it REAL.
|Don't Busey your run|
So, looking back, I suppose this post falls into the “oh my god, my face is melting off” category. For that matter, I did chafe in some strange places. Stupid 20 milers.