12 Mile Hil - ***ABORT!***ABORT!***
Well, I kind of had a bad night tonight.
I met up with the Axis of Evil for another run. The group is getting larger; there were 7 of us tonight. I think they were looking to do a 12-mile run: about 1-2 miles of hills, then 6 miles of flat, then 4 miles of hills. Or as they call it, "a fun run." I don't think I ever planned on doing the entire thing. I felt I could probably stay within about a minute of them for the first 5 miles, then turn around and take a slightly different route back to the car (avoiding the initial hill) at a slower pace, and I'd get a great 9-10 mile run out of it. Such was the plan, anyway.
Things didn't work out that way, and it's my own fault. I made the mistake of racing home from work, wolfing down a dinner, and then dashing out to meet up for the run. It's probably not such a good idea to run on a full stomach. I did pretty well on the first hill segment, and wasn't falling too far behind in the flatlands but I could feel a big solid lump in the upper part of my stomach. It was shaped like a steak and buttered roll, which coincidently is what I ate about 45 minutes before. I could feel myself slowing down a bit, and then all of sudden I just stopped in my tracks and let out a very wimpy dry-heave. I think mentally I wanted to throw-up just to relieve the pressure, but I wasn't in bad enough shape to actually do it. I know that sounds wierd, but yes: I wish I was MORE sick just to get it over with.
I made it about 3 miles out and basically said "I'm done." The problem now was that I still had to get back to the car. That kind of sucked. I tried jogging a few times but each time I did I could feel myself getting sick and I decided not to push it and I walked most of the way back. I got back to my car 90 minutes after I left: about 27 minutes on the outbound path, 63 minutes to return.
I realize there is a fine line between "explanation" and "excuse", and I don't want to place all the blame on my rushed dinner. A lot of the problem was simply that I can't run that fast. But next month I will run faster than I do now, and in March I will run even faster. And hopefully eat less.
There is a bit of a bright side to this. A year ago, I would have been a little upset if I couldn't complete the run. Two years ago, it would have thrown me into a deep depression. But now I have achieved a certain comfort level with my own abilities (and limitations), such that if I can't keep up with a workout I have no poblem saying "screw this shit, I'm going home!" and not feel bad about it.