Last week I did not feel inspired to write a blog post, despite just having made a commitment to blog at least once a week. To make up for that, I'll write two blog posts this week.
On the Saturday before last, I went out for a long run, intending to do 30 miles on Leon Creek. I ended up cutting it waaaay short, around 12 miles, because I had such bad cramps. I'm glad I ran what I did that day, though, because I really needed that mental and emotional processing time that running alone, without headphones, can provide. The next day I got out there and finished up, doing 18 miles, so at least I felt like I got a good back-to-back, even though I didn't have the long-long run I had wanted.
I guess my running lately has been a tale of good thing/bad thing. I've had some good consistency, but a lot of just plain crummy-feeling runs. I don't know how much of it is lost mojo, dating back to overdoing it last fall, and how much of it is the summer heat's fault. Probably a mix of both.
This morning I did 10 miles. Joe and I ran our first mile together, as we like to do, and then after we separated my run proceeded to turn into a run/walk, followed shortly by a walk/walk. With 6 miles to go, I decided that I cared more about getting as much exercise outside as I could than about my pride, and the 15-16 minute power walk pace started in. I tried to envision Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally.
As of this moment, I'm planning to do a 60k race this weekend. That's a really scary thought, coming from someone who struggled to put together 10 miles this morning. But we have the rim-to-rim-to-rim trip to the Grand Canyon coming up, so I figure I need a kick in the pants in my training. The kind of kick in the pants a 37-mile night run in the woods in 90-degree humid temperatures can give someone who hasn't run an ultra since February. I honestly do not know whether I can finish the race. But I'm darn sick of DNF-ing, so here's my vow: If I do start the race on Saturday, I will finish it, even if it's Billy-Crystal-style.