Still Running Forward

Friday, 9 May, in accordance with the 50k training plan I started, I set out to do a 10 mile run, by far the longest distance since I shut it down over two months ago. Imagine my fear (well, if you can). If my tendons wouldn't hold, that would put a huge dent in my progress toward the ultra I am running in September (40 miler). I still have a lot of base to build up for that. Of course, there will always be an ultra somewhere, so most important, for me, the ability to run, period. I long for that day I can lace on some shoes and bust out the door for a double-digit or multi-hour long run without hesitation, without concern for the overuse injury that has plagued me for the past few months.

Running the 5k a couple weeks ago was a big deal, but this 10 miler was huge. It meant everything in moving to the next stage in my recovery process. I had already rung three days last week, the most I had run in a week in over two months, and they were three days in a row. Thursday was a scheduled recovery day, and I had the choice of taking it completely off, which I did. Saturday was a scheduled hour long medium run, which I would make a decision about after Friday's run. Is the suspense killing you yet? Well, here's a hint, I chose not to run Saturday, at all. Fret not, however, because the 10-mile run was a huge success. Yes, my tendons gave me some pause during the first mile or two, but once they loosened up, I experienced smooth sailing most of the rest of the run. In fact, there was little to no swelling afterwards or the next day; however, I need to be careful, and I felt like after such an intense run (though not my fastest and still walking for one minute after every five) I should give my ankle an extra day to recover before I start the weekly training cycle all over again tomorrow.

The particulars of my 10-mile run surprised me. I had expected a 12-minute-per-mile pace. Mile one = 13:02. Ugh! But I quickly made my peace with it. One must not rush recovery. These things take time when done right. Mile two = 12:42. Better, but I wasn't burning up the road, which was a beautiful place to run. River Road, just south of Buena Vista, VA. It winds along the river among small mountains and cliffs, delightful. Mile three = 11:54. Now that's what I'm talking about! That felt good, and I loved that I still had the negative split chops; although, it's not hard to negative split after such slow miles. Mile four = 10:56. Whoa, I'm out of my mind! I didn't even consider sub 11:00 possible, despite the 5k performance. This was 10 miles. Was I pushing too hard? Would I run out of gas? Yet I pushed on. Mile five = 9:55!!! What the heck was I thinking? That can't lead to any good. At this point, I turned around, of course, and eased back, partly because I was starting to feel fatigued, but I was also worried about, once again, doing too much too soon. I sucked down a Clif gel. Mile six = 11:02. That felt more manageable, though I felt disappointed. Naturally, as is my way, I picked the pace up a bit. Mile seven = 10:12. Well, how 'bout that? After seven miles, I was putting in a solid pace. Mile eight = 9:39. Yes, I know, I put in an 8:40 mile during the 5k, but this was mile eight of a 10 mile run. How was my body doing this? Also, this was a training run. When I race, I shave oodles (you like that word?) of time off my pace. Mile nine (a lot of uphill climbing) = 10:03. I was spent after the climb, but when I saw the time, I felt awesome, and all the discomfort disappeared. Mile 10 = 9:44. Come on, now, is that not impressive? I am not bragging here. Why would I? For many runners that pace is slower than the molasses in January, but for me, wow! I pulled that off in the 10th mile of my longest run in over two months and still in the middle of recovering from an injury. Overall, I ran the 10 miles in 1:49:10 with a 10:54 pace. Happy? You bet, but reservedly so. I do not want to assume that I am back, fully recovered. I think that is still months away, but this was a giant leap forward. That is why I took Saturday off. I did not want to risk losing all that progress. Not that I thought I was still that close to majorly inflaming those tendons again, but I certainly didn't want to find out. So two days of rest, and Monday is an easy 45-60 minutes to start it all over again, with a 12 miler on Friday.

With that success, I registered for what will essentially be my first half marathon, but because it's me, a simple half marathon isn't enough. On 1 June, I will run a trail 25k (15.5 miles) in Roanoke. The is the next goal in this process. Of course, I will make sure to keep myself from overdoing it, but it will be so hard when I hit that trail, adrenaline pumping, and the mountain air nurturing the soul.