Today, my first official day of marathon training, was supposed to start differently. I had planned to run a 7ish mile loop as the sun woke up. I then planned on meeting Heidi for an addition 4ish miles since her knee is still healing. We were going to enjoy a coffee after our run.
When my alarm clock went off at 5:30am, I still hadn’t gone to bed. Not officially. I crawled into bed at 5:45am for two incredibly short hours of sleep.
Chet is sick. Again. He has caught the nasty cold Cole has been fighting all week. He was up all night coughing and wheezing. Any time I laid him in his crib, he cried. He couldn’t breath. He wasn’t sleeping. He could only get comfortable in my arms. So I moved back and forth from the chair in his room to an upright seated position in my bed all night long. Christian helped as best he could, but Chet wanted his mama.
As I attempted to open my eyes at 7:45, Christian told me we could find time for me to run this afternoon. I knew I could head out while Chet took his morning nap.
At noon Chet finally settled in for his “morning” nap. I could have taken a nap too. I was struggling with the simplest of tasks already. But today was day 1. Friday night I wrote on this blog that every weekend I’d be running double digits. Do I already back out of a run?
I had every true legitimate excuse not to run today. I probably should have napped. But my missed run would have haunted me. I would have regretted not trying. So I put on my shoes. I grabbed the dog leash. I headed out for a few miles with the dog. Since he is out of shape, I knew I couldn’t go very far with him. We ran 4.5 miles before I brought him home. I have never been so tired. I have never had so little energy to lift my legs to run. I could barely keep my eyes open.
I ate a few grapes, dropped off the dog, and headed out again. Every weekend I will be running double digits. My own words were haunting me. I could get to 10. It might be ugly, but I could do it. I wanted 10 more than I’ve wanted anything on a run in a long time. I haven’t run double digits since the my half marathon a month ago. My one planned 12 miler got cut short by a stomach virus and throwing up at mile 3. So I kept going.
At mile 6, I thought I might tip over. Is it possible to sleep run? My eyes were so heavy. At mile 7, I started to get giddy (or delusional). I had less than a 5k to go. At mile 8, I wanted to crawl home. At mile 9, I just wanted a shower and my bed. Sweet mile 10. I made it home. I hit double digits. Not 10.01. Not 9.99. Exactly 10.00.
10 miles. 1:42:15. 10:13 pace (4 seconds faster than my half marathon PR). My last mile was my fastest mile (10:03 pace).
While I probably should have napped, I’m so glad I ran. If I can do that with no fuel in my tank, I’m pretty excited about the rest of my long runs.
Now let’s just hope Chet sleeps tonight (or I will really be wishing I napped).
And now it’s my bedtime too.