25 August 2007

A Waste of Good Pasta

Today's long run gave me that sinking feeling. You know, that sinking feeling you get when you realise you need that emergency tampon you tucked into the pocket of your shorts "just in case."

That sinking feeling you get when you break down crying a mere four miles out, even though you know it's just the hormones and the humidity talking, and not the fact that you have eleven more miles to go and seven more miles' worth of water.

When the ground wobbles beneath you eight miles out, and you realize those cramps aren't coming from your uterus but from your lack of hydration.

When you aren't ashamed to steal a partially-used salt packet from a discarded McDonald's bag on a park bench and slit it open so you can lick the wrapper for the sodium.

When at mile eleven you break down crying again anyway, proving the extent of your dehydration because you can't even cry right anymore, for fooksake.

When you limp into a run the last tenth of a mile anyway, because what if there were 20,000 Marines watching, like there will be in October?

That sinking feeling that only lifts when you get home and your dad has made you a peanut butter and bacon sandwich on toast, because he knows that this and only this will have enough sodium to get you up the stairs and into the shower and still meet your post-run protein requirement for not kicking the cats while you try to run in your sleep tonight, and you log on to find that everybody else's run pretty much sucked goats too, from Lauren who had an intestinal bug all week but toughed out 12 miles, to Lenz recovering from knee surgery, to poor tumbling Kat, who now has the worst case of road rash you've ever seen that doesn't involve skateboards, to Fish who cut it short at 3.5 (maybe he's the smart one), to Wil who bagged it entirely and sat down on the couch with two Italian sausage sandwiches with onions and peppers to try again tomorrow.

That threatens to descend again when you realise what a tremendous klunker of a run-on sentence that was, but you don't even have the energy to fix it.

7 comments:

gautami tripathy said...

That made a very good read. I was with you all the way. As I have been running for a while now, I can relate to this feeling.

But it has not stopped me from running. Nor it will, for you.

JHS. said...

Interesting, esp. since I'm not a runner, never have been and never will be. I couldn't relate but it was fascinating reading.

Karen Travels said...

You are such a captivating writer. I hold onto every word.

I ran a 5k once. I was practically paralyzed afterwards.

Fledgling Poet said...

Your inner drive is incredibly impressive...such amazing discipline! Thank you for sharing this.

Just Jinny said...

Maybe I can find the piece I wrote about my friend talking me into walking six miles.

I'm not a runner either, but wish I was...sort of. Very good read, I felt a pain in my side.

Thank you for the comment. Sinking into a bubble bath is a VERY good addition.

tumblewords said...

I'm not a runner but I was exhausted from being beside you every step of the way. Nicely written!

bipolarbear said...

Peanut butter and bacon? On toast? Must. Try. Sandwich.