Twenty Wet Miles

I ran twenty miles yesterday.

It rained a lot.

Those two sentences don’t really do the whole event justice. In actuality, it rained as I woke up at six to eat two plates of noodles and a banana. It rained as I topped up my fuel belt with sports drink. It rained as I stretched and got dressed. And then it rained when I started. It continued to rain as I ran through Leytonstone, and you better believe it rained when I hit the Tower of London. Guess what I saw when I crossed London Bridge? (rain). And the Globe Theater, where I turned around, was situated firmly within the environs of Rain Town, UK.

On the way home, the puddles turned into lakes, and I swam at least two kilometers. If I had thought to bring a bike, I could have completed my first triathalon. By the time I got home I was so wet that my leggings had begun to foam at the kneecaps. This sounds weird, I know. But, apparently there was residual detergent or fabric softener left in the fabric, and the continual bending of my knee mixed with the steady rain to work the material into a lather. It was pretty funny.

Almost as funny as the helicopter ambulance I saw in the East end that was sponsored by Virgin.

The run itself went pretty well, but there were hiccups. I tried to stay true to form and break it up into three one hour periods, and then micromanage each period. In honor of Tessa, who is currently pregnant with our first mini-runner, I declared that each hour would be termed a trimester and that all pain and agony that I experienced through my “training pregnancy” would magically cure her of any pain and agony in her real pregnancy. In a very general way, the run did follow vague trends of pregnancy. The first hour was not very comfortable, as my muscles sorted themselves out and my body generally warmed up. The second hour was pretty much a cakewalk. Then, sometime during the third hour, wheels fell off and shoulders sagged, and the whole experience became a lot less fun as pain set in and the impatience to reach the finish line became palpable.

Did I mention the rain? After three hours of running in heavy rain, I don’t care how optimistic and annoyingly positive you (and I try to be both of these things, in spades), you are going to begin inventing new swear words at a fantastic pace.

Oh yeah, at about twelve miles my left knee locked up as the IT band called foul. I stretched it while waiting at a streetlight and slowly worked it back into action. My feet posed no problems, so right now that is the one thing I am asking Santa to fix before the marathon. It really is a pain, in more ways than one.

As for times, my ipod died at 17.3 miles, so boo. BUT, it had been acting up a little before that, so I was able to monitor it before it died. This means I got my time right before it went down, and luckily it crashed right as I was passing under a major landmark. My time and my exact position gave me a chance to project my final time, roughly.

My first ten miles came in at 1:33, and when the ipod died at 17.3, I had been running 2:41 minutes. So, even if my pace dropped from 9:18 per mile to 10:00 per mile (and it did drop somewhat as the weather finally broke me, although I don’t think it dropped to that extreme), then I finished the twenty miles in 3:08 or so. If I maintained my pace, then it was just over 3:06.

Honestly, I felt like I didn’t finish as strongly as I did when I ran twenty miles last month. I’m a little bummed about that. However, I did run it about ten minutes faster. I also ran through the worst weather I have ever run in my life. I am not in the business of making up excuses or anything, but I have to draw some positives from this run. I think the biggest positive is that I know that no matter how bad things are in Dublin, I can handle it. I might not break four hours, but if knee problems pop up and the weather is absolutely dreadful, then I will know that I had seen it all before.

That has to count for something.