My first long run of the marathon schedule, 9-miles, and I thought it went fabulous. Really. It was fabulous in spite of the fact that I was actually afraid to begin it. I washed dishes, threw a load of laundry in the wash, paid bills, anything to hold off on the "start." Why? Oh, I have these creeping insecurities and worry: Will I be able to do it? Will I finish? Am I prepared enough? What if I tank half-way and there is no one around to come and get me? (By the way, I've never heard of this actually happening to anyone I know, not even myself.) However, you never know! What IF I couldn't finish?
So I began it. First came the steep long hill (1.5 miles) up California Oaks Road. Hills are not recommended for long runs, but anyone in this area knows that we cannot do a long run anywhere without a monster hill being involved. The day was windy. At first, this wind felt like a soft breeze, cooling and comfortable. Upon turning the corner at Clinton Keith, the breeze turned into a hot, shadeless wind. My lips chapped in about three minutes.
When I turned the next corner, 3 miles down the road, the hot shadeless wind turned into "gale force." My hat kept lifting off my head. I was by now running on a dirt road, and even though I was wearing sunglasses, the dusty wind flowed up and around, and into my eyes causing tears to stream down my face. There was no turning back though. I was exactly half way. The thought of running another 4.5 miles in gale force Santa Ana winds got me to panicking just a little. But I thought: I'm at the top of a hill. Pretty soon, I will be back down in the valley, and maybe it won't be so windy. That's what I hoped anyway.
And that's what happened. As soon as I got to Los Alamos Park, the wind turned back into a warm breeze. I did a couple of loops in the park, and headed back into town, and back toward home. Two miles more to go. Often, it is the last couple of miles that are the hardest. This is when I tell myself it is okay to take a break and walk a bit, when my legs are feeling like cement blocks. Not today. I was able to run the whole way.
And that's why I say it was a fabulous, wonderful long run. Because I was afraid to start it, and I conquered it anyway. I ran a long run in less than desirable conditions, and finished strong anyway. And the best part? I didn't even chafe!! (Thigh chafing is my "fat index indicator". If I chafe, then I know I need to lose weight.)
Definition of a fabulous long run: Finishing...without chafing.
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