This is what running 14 miles looks like…

and this is what recovering from running 14 miles looks like…

I haven’t run more than a half marathon in several years. I guess that’s why I woke from a restless sleep with an unsettled stomach, similar to the one that inhabits my body on race mornings. I didn’t feel like eating or drinking coffee or running, but managed to force down both a Cliff bar and a cup. I tried to distract my churning mind by fiddling with a 13+ mile playlist, adding songs for this morning’s build in distance.

When I could no longer delay the inevitable, out the door I trotted, my pink water bottle holder and matching Spibelt loaded with goodies fuel. I followed the same route as last weekend, a multi-use path which I ran to from home and in to the next town. Aside from a few rolling hills, this course is a straight shot. I ran through the same neighborhoods as before, then out to a main road that has a bike lane. I stuck as close to the shoulder as possible, not wanting to get sideswiped by any cyclists. As I plodded along I became cognizant of the fact that my stomach no longer ached. Actually, nothing hurt. Hey! I feel pretty good! I picked up the pace slightly, trying just to glance at the Garmin so I would know when to turn around. Once the distance screen clocked 7 miles, I cheered and tagged the closest tree without pause.

Somewhere around mile 9.5, I was able to heed the call of nature and refill my empty bottle at a community center en route. I guzzled my electrolyte enhanced water as I approached the home stretch, the multi-use path. This hill, which had been at the back of my mind the entire morning, now stood at the forefront. I decided the best tactic I could use to get to the top without stopping was feigned ignorance. It was just too daunting to look at the unruly incline looming before me. So I pulled my cap over my eyes, lowered my head and acknowledged only what I saw through my limited peripheral vision as I climbed. A crumpled green pack of Marlborough cigarettes, a MUNI card, 2 Otter Pop wrappers, brown Calvin Klein men’s underwear, a paper McDonalds cup, knotted yellow caution tape, an empty GU (not mine), more shredded napkins than I could count, but no hill. The bile that had snuck up my throat finally joined this motley collection of cast-offs once I reached the summit. It’s always my goal to leave no trace behind when I run, but at least my refuse was decomposable.

I trotted the last few miles home swelling with pride, relief, and perspiration. Not only did I complete a solo 14-miler, but felt strong and capable for most of it. Vomit is a badge of honor not a sign of weakness, right? Training hard gives new meaning to the simple things in life- a hot shower, food, a mani/pedi with my daughter, a night out with good friends, and a day off tomorrow.