! 12 ! ... and...

So one of the goals of returning to this  blog, was my own desire to document my little running journey, so I can remind  myself of accomplished goals. So, I write.

Prior to this year, the longest I had ever run was 8 miles. I still remember that day CANDIDLY. Sarah, Shannon, Owen in the jogging stroller, and the Canal Fulton towpath. I ended strong....right Shannon?

I still get jitters about running. And a million thoughts cross my mind as I'm driving to the towpath for my long runs that utterly try to convince me that I'm really not going to make it back to my car. It's crazy, but it's real. And my body responds, too, with real panic! 

So I write about last week:
I made sure I was a good girl the day before our anticipated 12 miler. For lunch I had chicken and rice. I drank TONS of water that day. Avoided sweets at the office (best I could, I couldn't pass up Smoothie King). And I went to bed early.

I woke up around 5 (anticipated start time was 7 am), and was full of snot. Which made me mad! I thought I was going to choke on the gross stuff, and of course, that was what was going to keep me from finishing the 12 miles. Lies, I tell you. I then realized my favorite running socks were in the washer. Fail, it sounds stupid, but they make a difference. With them, my feet don't feel sweaty. Without them, yuck, gross. So I put together a running outfit that I felt would be successful for the morning, which was expected to be warm. My favorite calf length running pants and a race shirt that was extra big to stay comfortable.

First fail, I chose to drink Gatorade instead of water. So we start our run. Minus Lisa, Encourager extraordinaire who is on this journey with me, minus Coach Dana. We start with a hill. Fail #2-allow mind to convince me I'm already doomed as I regret having sinus cavities, why not just take them out already! But I make it 4 miles out with the group and feel good. At turn around I still feel good, feeling a little pain in my knee (s/p ACL) and decide to slow up a little. Mile 7, I'm thirsty. Gatorade is at car. It's hot out. I don't feel so great. I start praying the big prayers-delusional hydrated prayers that I'll be able to pick up a 9 minute mile pace and just get this over with super fast.

And JUST THEN....Jess shows up (Cue mental rendition of Monica's version of Angel of Mine). On bike. She bikes out and meets back at parking lot with goal to finish my last 4 miles with me. It's absolutely amazing what some encouragement does. Having her trotting along beside me joking about all of our athletic fails growing up and her little encouraging words-definetely lifted me enough to carry me to the 12 mile mark. How grateful was I? Soooo much!!

12 miles is a long way, really. I'm sort of proud of myself, for sure never in a million years would of thought that's something I could have accomplished.

But  just to keep me humble, we did a trail run this weekend...and it stunk. Lots of hills, grass and roots made it hard to keep sure footing, and trailrunning made it near impossible to keep a steady pace. And 5 miles felt like 50.

And that is why we keep training. 29 days until the half. Quite frankly, that makes me freakishly nervous!!