Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Nine miles...

Whenever I run over five miles, my brain goes into some weird mode. It's kinda like I'm drunk, but also like I'm really high. I talk like I am really drunk, but my thought process is like I'm high as a kite.

I did not want to do nine miles yesterday. At all. But when I got home from work, I had 2 hours and 15 minutes before I needed to meet Missy and Katie at Turner Park for the movie. I figured that was the perfect amount of time to run. And since I was running, I decided to just try to get the nine miles out of the way to stay on my training plan.

I was wearing new shoes, which made me nervous.

**Time out. I don't think anyone realizes what a big deal it is that I completely wore out a pair of running shoes and had to buy new ones. It kinda makes me cry. I can't believe I did it. Time in. **

Anyway, so I got started and miles 1,2,3 went kinda smoothly. (Running never actually goes smoothly for me, but it was okay). This is where my mind went a little crazy, and I started making some ridic plans in my head for my future jobs, boyfriends, marriages, houses, etc. It's no wonder, with all those stupid thoughts, that I got confused and actually thought I was a mile ahead of where I was. So when my phone beeped I was just then hitting mile 4, I wanted to break down and cry.

I was running slow. I wasn't even running. I wasn't even jogging. I was like sleep-moving.

When I got to mile 5, I was right in front of my apartment. I thought for a second I should turn in, get some water and then go back out and do the last four miles. But I knew if I went into my apartment I wouldn't want to leave again, so I crossed 96th Street and went into this cute little neighborhood so I could knock two miles out, and then I could run my last two miles around my apartment to land me at my front door when my phone beeped nine miles.

Bad idea. I needed water so bad. It was all I could think about. I was going to be running through a park at about the mile 7 mark, so I planned on getting a drink at the water fountain. Wait, what if there isn't a water fountain? Do parks even have water fountains?

I was in a panic, and I was fairly convinced I was going to die from thirst. Cue the over dramatics. But then I seriously got all up in my head, and I was convinced I was going to pass out as well.

I came to a driveway where a father and son were washing their car. Before I could even think, I came to a dead halt and took out my ear buds.

"I know this is super weird, but can I take a drink out of your hose?" I blurted out.
The dad looked at me. I must have looked like death. "Of course you can. But would you like a bottle of water instead?"
I almost started crying. "Oh my God, yes!"
The son ran into the garage and returned with the water. I took it and yelled "You guys are my angels!"
And then I guzzled half the bottle, started running again, and promptly got a stomach cramp.

To say the rest of my run was bad is an understatement. I was disgusting. I felt like my face was covered in dirt (it wasn't). My fingers were fatter than they were when I was 90 pounds heavier. I was miserable. My legs hurt so fucking bad. My feet hurt so bad. My vagina even hurt. And thank God I stopped at random guy's house and asked for water, because the park had no water fountain.

I got to mile 8.5 and texted Missy that I was going to be late. I knew it would take me awhile to get my shit together, and I was going to need to find something to eat. I also texted her I was probably going to die.

Finally, I hit nine miles and I seriously thought I was going to die. Every single step hurt. I got into my apartment and sat on the couch, even though every single inch of my clothing was soaking wet with sweat. Then I crawled...yep, I crawled...into the bathroom. While peeing, I peeled off all my clothes and then I laid on my back on my bathroom floor. I felt dizzy and like I was going to puke. Then I crawled...yes, crawled...to my bedroom and laid on my bed for a few minutes. Runners' high my ass.

I think I am going to wait awhile before I attempt my ten miles. I am going to repeat my 8 and 9 miles runs until I feel better about them.


  1. Dear God, Jen, you are my inspiration in this running thing. You are so far ahead of me. I'm aiming for five miles this week and I'm nervous about that. I'm still thinking about doing a half. Maybe next year? That terrifies me.

  2. Dude. Trust me, if I can do this you can do this, and probably beat my ass with your time. I am planning on a half this fall. And it will kill me.