First long run...by accident

Soooooooo, I have to say I have never been big on details. I usually just fly by the seat of my pants, and by usually I mean always. Going into my Saturday morning long run, I broke my code and decided to spare my shins any extra pounding and stick to 6 miles, no more.

Yeah, about that.


Everything started out great, I didn't try to break a land speed record like I usually do, leading me to dry heave after the first mile. No, I kept the pace slow, found someone to run with that was willing to just cruise along and chat. Now Newton, MA is not an UGLY place, per say, so I had a lot to be distracted by. We made our way along the Charles River, watched the crew teams from MIT and Harvard glide by (I just have to throw it out there that my oar would be lodged in that bullhorn if I had to get up at 5:30 every morning and listen to someone shout at me from a motor boat). Soon the conversations started up, we talked about marathons, why were subjecting ourselves to 26.2 miles of fun, where we grew up, etc. You know, the normal stuff that people talk about when they are trying to forget why they were running in the freezing cold at the crack on a Saturday morning. It was about the time when my mouth started to turn to paste that my running buddy asked, "How far do you plan on running?"

You know that feeling you get when you suddenly realize you forgot something crucial, like, say an appointment time or to send the schematics to Jack Bauer's PDA? Yeah, I know, Jack wasn't pleased. Anyhow, I told my running buddy that I was shooting for around six miles, give or take a few rest stops to hate myself.

"Well, you better turn around then; this is the five mile mark."


Awesome.


Way to go, Bri, you've just won an all inclusive package aboard the pain-train, next stop, Hatesville. I can't tell you the sense of "what the ...." that came over me. My first reaction was to cry, but I held it together. I thought of getting a cab but of course I was too proud to do that. So what did I do? Well, I don't really remember the thought process, but somehow I ended up in a CVS in Harvard Square looking for a bottle of Ensure. I know, right? A logical next step...What?

So after failing to convince the CVS clerk to sell me a single bottle of Ensure, I settled on Gatorade and a bar of horribleness that Snickers pretends to sell as an energy supplement. I tried to get this thing into my stomach but even a homeless man watched in horror as I chewed. I finished half of it, did a little wow-that-tasted-foul dance, and started on my journey back to my car.

Harvard Square to Newton.

Not close to each other.

At all, really.

As I made way back along the Charles, I started to get a terrible feeling, the one that every runner dreads when training in a city environment. Yep, you guessed it, I had to go to the bathroom. Now having run track in college, I have encountered this problem on a number of occasions. However, I went to St. Lawrence University and for those of you who don't know where that is, head directly towards the middle of nowhere. When you get there, keep going, and you will eventually find it. Finding a place to go to the bathroom up there was not difficult, as the place was surrounded by woods. Harvard Square, though, not very forested. But, I figured it being Harvard Square, the epicenter on wicked smaht people, I would easily find a bathroom. What? Smart people burn the midnight oil solving crazy equations and how to make the most effective terribly tasting energy bar. Because of this, they need a lot of coffee to stay awake. Because they need a lot of coffee, they will also need a lot of bathrooms. Natural logic.


Yeah, no bathrooms.

Harvard Square, I am really glad that you have all the eclectic boutiques, fun shops, and far too many bookstores but seriously. What is up with the Facilities? Did I miss the memo? So there I am, frantically firing around in my jogging tights, dodging one genius after another, in my quest to not find relief. Just when I thought I was going to be on the local news, I saw it, the fabulous wonder that it is...Ihop. The man at the counter was nice enough to let me by, or he read my face and didn't want to deal with what I had to offer. Either way, I was in and out of there in a quick 45 minutes and back on my way.

Rule of thumb to anyone who runs or is looking to get into running - when you have a sweat going and your body has adjusted to your run, don't stop. After nearly an hour of ballyhoo, my legs were not THAT thrilled to be running again. Of course the wind that wasn't at my back on the way out was now all up in my face on the way back. I decided to hold onto my Gatorade in an attempt to inject some energy as I went along. Funny, I didn't notice the pretty scenes or the MIT and Harvard crew teams on my way back. I am pretty sure they could have been screaming, boats on fire and I wouldn't have noticed. I was too busy rehashing in my mind how I a) got myself into a 10 mile run b) how I was actually going to make it back and c) the amazing things I was going to buy at Stop and Shop when I finally did make it back. Seriously, what is better than going shopping when you are super hungry? Exactly.

So the run back wasn't all that bad and I actually surprised myself by finishing fairly strong. I have to say that this was the first 10 miler I have ever done, even if it was only by accident. It made me realize that I am farther along in my fitness than I thought and that distance running is largely mental. I can do it, only 16.2 miles to add on...

Until next time-


B