Eighteen Really Stunk

Geez Louise, eighteen really sucked.  There's honestly no other way to say it.  Well, actually, there are a few other ways that would adequately express how miserable that was, but I'll stick with sucked. 

I have never been that sore and miserable in my life.  I would rather give birth.  Or possibly chop off my thumb. 

In hindsight, I think I've hit the dreaded "Wall" right about 13 miles the last two long runs.  The difference between the two was that during the 16 mile run I only had a little bit of run left.  During the 18 mile run this week, I had a whole lot more.  It was worse this week.  I went from feeling pretty tired and sore to feeling like there was no way I could take another step.  Not one more.  There was nothing in me that even cared that I couldn't take another step.  I had no idea why I was doing this and only wanted to get home.  I think I scared Julie a little bit, for good reason.  I scared myself, too.  She told me later she considered suggesting a short cut home, but decided "no, we have to finish."  I'm so glad you made that decision, Julie.   

If Julie hadn't been with me, I would have plopped my rear down on the corner of Riddell Road and Monmouth Cut Off and cried.  Then I would have called George, said "Come get me" and dropped out of the marathon.  I'd have run the half.  Honestly.  But Julie has been a gift to me and she didn't let that happen.  She helped me keep on going when I didn't think I could and because of her I finished the 18. 

I was pretty deep in despair about the whole thing last night.  I attempted my first ice bath because I was hurting so badly, but I just couldn't do it.  My shower felt good, though, and thanks to Rachel the pharmacist I took 4 ibuprofen (I never take more than 2) and started to feel a bit better.  I woke up so thirsty in the night and got up to eat peanut butter in the wee morning hours because my stomach was growling madly, but this morning I was much less sore than I expected to be.  I took another round of 3 ibuprofen this morning and I've felt pretty decent all day.   

I'm not ready to think about the next long run yet, but I know there will be a 20.  I couldn't have said that yesterday. 

We had a couple of humorous moments on our run yesterday.  Once we were running along the highway toward Monmouth when a weird, metallic sound sort of "clinked" behind us.  For a split second I thought something metal had fallen from a tree and hit something metal on the ground.  Both Julie and I turned around to look over our shoulders at the same moment, and both of us jumped and screamed.  I think we scared the poor kid on the bicycle who was trying to pass us and had rung his bike bell at us.  lol 

A few miles later, out on Riddell Road, I sort of yelled, "Oh gosh!  Look!  It's a bald eagle!"  I got all excited and was feeling like this was about to be a beautiful moment when we got a little closer and I realized the bald eagle on the fence post was made of wood.  Not such a beautiful moment. 

I'm going to work on recovering a bit and then I'll start to think about the next one.  I'm going to be very, very glad to have this thing over with.