Okay, I know, so I went a bit too fast too far.
I had not planned for 19. I had no plans for Sunday’s big run. I was too scared to plan. I did not know whether I’d be able to do 10, or 13, or 16 miles, or more. I doubted I had enough core strength. I dreaded the big run for the length of the week, and that morning I definitely, definitely did not want to get out of the house. Especially at 26 degrees, with the windshield “feels like 15.” Especially after having one cocktail too many the night before. I wanted to go back to bed.
But after getting out of the house and doing five loops around the Academy track – my perfect 16 miles from the week before – I was so numb that another loop looked like a doable business. Just another loop. Only one more loop, I said. 3.2 miles. By now I can do 3.2 miles on any day. This was just another day. So I did – one more loop.
Hello, mile 19. Four hours less a minute.
I stretched conscientiously afterwards. I sat down in the bathtub filled with cold water. No ice, which in a way is worse than icing, because the ice numbs you faster. But the muscles, I hoped, appreciated the intent nonetheless.
My mind was blank for the rest of the day. Running wipes my mind clean. You’d think after all that time spent on my own, unwired for sound, I could come up with one novel intelligible thought. I did not. I lost myself in the hours of running.
Actually I walked a lot. Perhaps four miles altogether. Don’t know. It doesn’t matter, since I probably owe it to the walking that I am still in one piece.
It’s surprising, but I feel better after 19 miles than I felt a week ago after 16. I guess I’ll stay here for a little while, build a home base, explore the neighborhood.
I am three quarters there. Only seven more miles to go.