First 20 Miler Down

Sunday I successfully ran my 1st 20 miler of this training period. Got off to a great start, averaging just over 8:30/mile through the 1st 13 miles. Went 9:04 mile 14, back to 8:42 mile 15, and then....bam!!! There was the wall. 9:12, 9:29, etc. Ended up averaging 8:49 - mile 19 a horrible 9:58. I was happy, though, that mile 20 was not my slowest - 9:36.

Things I learned / was reminded of:

1) HYDRATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2) May not matter to everyone, but carbs the night before are VERY important to me.
3) There's a wall coming. May not always come at the same time, but it's coming.
4) Wishing it was over does not help - in fact, it only makes it worse.

Recently, I read a great quote by David Richo regarding wishing we could change our circumstances, 'Escaping leads to holding on.' How incredibly true.

What I find curious, though, is how often one must re-learn this.

It's something I share each month when I teach 1st offender DUI classes - that drinking/using in order to avoid my problems does not make said problems go away. It generally merely compounds them.

It's something my mother tried to teach me by making me endure the torture of sitting over vegetables at the dinner table long after everyone else had gone, the dishes cleared, the sun waved goodbye to precious time for playing outside. If I'd just eat the nasty things, I could get on with my life, the better for it. Refusing did not make them go away. It just allowed them to grow cold and yuckier.

It's common at marathons to see someone holding a sign, or wearing a shirt that reads 'Why couldn't Pheidippides have died after 20 miles?' Everyone sees the sign and laughs.

And, many of us then think, yeah - why couldn't he?!!

Of course, if he had, we'd never have heard of him and probably wouldn't be running marathons in the first place. We'd be running some other random distance wishing someone else had died long before they did.

We start fighting with our bodies. We lie to them - sometimes successfully - saying things like, 'this doesn't hurt,' or, 'I'm not tired,' or, 'Pssh! 20 miles? I can run 40!' I've heard of people who lied to their bodies and were able to swim faster and further. Like MUCH faster and further. Such things have never worked for me.

Then, we accept that we're getting tired, or thirsty or chafed or whatever. We say things like, 'Too bad!' or, 'Deal with it!' or, 'It's not much further, suck it up!' As if being mean about it is going to help.

Our bodies talk back.  No - they scream back - 'Look, buddy, I said I was thirsty! Get a drink, NOW!' So, we drain our drinks after 13 miles instead of rationing them for later.  Rather than sipping, we chug. Anything to make it - all of it; the thirst, the fatigue, the growing boredom, the disappointment in our slowing pace - go away. And 2 miles later, we're dragging our full bellies up a hill at our slowest pace yet.

Sometimes we give in and walk a bit (I didn't give in to this on Sunday!! Yay!!) Not a good idea.

Sometimes we just quit altogether. Can't do it. Sorry.

Recently Radiolab featured stories about escape, including one about 'Little Houdini,' Christopher Daniel Gay. For most of his life, Gay has been trying to escape from a horrific childhood of abuse, loneliness, hunger and violence. At least fourteen times, this has meant literally escaping from jail. Each escape has only added to his problems. He's cost himself everything that has mattered to him - jobs, relationships with his brother, girlfriend and child. Last fall he was to come up, again, for parole, this time having actually served his time. He says to the reporter, though, that he has decided to ask not to be paroled. Instead, he wants to complete one last class he hopes will help him become a responsible citizen and, more importantly, father. The reporter, hardened by experience, scoffs at the notion, wondering if anyone can change and if Gay will even be in jail when it's time for his parole hearing.

The episode ends with the reporter reading a letter he received from Gay a couple months after wrapping up  the story - informing him that he had, in fact, asked to remain in jail for the final class, and thanking him for his friendship and for telling his story.

He has come to realize, I think, that escaping leads to holding on. Sometimes the only way to truly lay our challenges to rest is to accept them for what they are, opportunities to grow, to experience, to add to our canvas. To, someday, appreciate this as one of many thousands of pixels that make our picture our picture.

Fighting with our bodies is kind of silly, you know? It's tough to do much without them. Impossible to run a marathon.  Just as unwise as giving them what they insist they want. Better to listen to them, to love them, to talk sensibly to them. To stay there with them instead of trying to escape.

So, Sunday, I pressed on. Trying, instead of fighting with my body, instead of denying that I was tiring and being disappointed that I'd consumed my fluids too early to be helpful late in my run.

After all, it was an terrifically sunny day, Denise was home making potato soup, I'd done this before. Taking the next step meant I could take one more.