low points and high points

You make plans and then life interferes. I meant to commit myself to the race for the remaining weeks, to work on core strength, to schedule my time around big runs. Instead the focus was broken by a flight to the East Coast and back and the emergency situation in between.

I could not imagine missing another long run, so I scouted out good places. More than once. Incessant rain had liquefied the ground, the roads stretched into unfamiliar woods, the weather was foreboding. One alternative that seemed safe was a 0.8 mile loop on solid pavement. But 0.8 miles? I would have to go around dozens of times for the run to make a difference.

I did not have a chance until the third day, Monday, one of the rainiest days of the rainiest April in the recorded history of the region. The rain thinned from the storm of the day before to a persistent drizzle, but the wind stayed gusty and the temperature in the low forties. The only thing that seemed appealing about this run was the altitude. At sea level, the oxygen would make breathing easy, it would increase my speed, it would jolt me forward.

My pace improved from roughly 12.5 at home to just under 11. Subjectively though I did not feel any easiness, any relief. It was the most brutal run I ever did, 28 times around the miserly loop, 22.4 miles. Perhaps it was the stress. Perhaps it was the exhaustion – I had an average of five hours night's sleep over the last 72. Perhaps it was the weather. For hours I pushed myself on and on, chilly to the bone, soaked in icy sweat, the running shoes heavy with water.

Two more loops would have brought the mileage to a perfect 24, and I meant to do them, even if I had to crawl. I did not because of time constraints. Instead I raced through a cold bath, a hot shower, and dressing up, and 40 minutes later I was ready for business again. I shivered for the rest of the day.

This is going to be the most I could do before the marathon. It has to be enough.