It was one of those days.
You know the ones...you start out with a grand goal, set out with the best of intentions to implement the steps it takes to get to that goal...and then you fall spectacularly flat on your face, well short of where you had hoped to be.
In other words:
FAIL.
In the running world, when this happens in a race, it's called a "DNS" or "DNF"--short for, "Did Not Start" or "Did Not Finish". In triathlons, marathons, or ultras, it is akin to the kiss of death.
And yet...
We've all had these days. Even elites such as Dean Karnazes, the ultramarathoner, or Deena Kastor, American marathon Olympian, have gotten a DNF in major races. Deena broke her foot in Beijing in 2008, just near the start of her race, and ended up riding in the "sag wagon" for the entire race. Karno got a DNF in this year's Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, dropping out at mile 62, well short of the mileage of which we all know he is capable.
And as for me, I got a DNF in my training run yesterday.
I know, it was a training run. Realistically, it is not the same thing at all. However, I have been working very hard the last couple months, trying to build up my endurance and speed after almost a year of not running consistently.
Although I have not updated this blog as much as I should have, I have had several stutter-starts at beginning my training over the past six months. Three months ago, I had the unfortunate experience of having a bug bite get infected with MRSA, the highly dangerous antibiotic-resistant staph infection that is becoming more widespread in this country. Luckily for me, the urgent care doc I saw "had a hunch" and decided to put me on an antibiotic that, it turned out, was the only one capable of killing the particular strain of staph I had, although that didn't make the whole process easy, or fast.
48 days later, I took my last antibiotic, and was finally cleared to start running.
That was two months ago, and so far I've worked myself up to be able to participate in the Bridge-to-Bridge 12K in San Francisco on Sunday, October 4, where I ran 1:33. It was over a 12-minute mile, but it was 7.3 miles of running with only two walk breaks. I was very pleased with my improvement.
That brought me up to yesterday. I'd had two excellent runs earlier in the week--a 4-mile tempo run, and 1.5 miles of intervals bookended with two 2-mile runs. I thought for sure, knowing that my longest training mileage so far as been 11 miles, that I could manage a 13 mile run. My goal: run to my daughter's school and back, twice. With the ugly hills. I set my alarm for 7 a.m., got my stuff all ready to go, and went to bed by 11.
Then I slept in until noon.
Now, knowing that I have a toddler and a 9-year-old, you know that's highly unusual on its own. However, I just could not get up. I was exhausted! When I finally did, I felt horrible. I was dreading the run, which is something I have only ever experienced once, when I was getting ready to run 20 miles for the first time in my life. But even then, once I got going, I was OK.
Not so yesterday. As I left the house, I was still muttering, "I am so dreading this." However, I was determined to get out there. I figured that, as usual, I'd feel better once I got going. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.
I ran the first couple miles. And my legs and lungs felt pretty darn good, even up the hills. However, my head felt dizzy and stuffy, like the top half of it was filled with tightly packed sludge. After almost 2 1/2 miles, I had to walk.
I made the first half of the first loop, 3.3 miles, in 43 minutes, walking the last mile or so. Then I turned around and headed back. My head felt so dizzy, I was on the verge of tears, nauseated, and worried I might throw up. I walked almost all the way home, but out of sheer anger I ran up every one of the big hills, dizziness or not. I was NOT going to let the hills beat me too, even if my body/brain were not being very cooperative.
I made it home, and quit. 6.6 miles in 1 hour, 40 minutes.
I was so frustrated and angry. But what can you do?
Dean Karnazes said in his blog, after his spectacular fail at the Western States, "What constitutes a life worth living? Is it high achievement? What I’ve come to believe is that more than anything, it’s having the courage to try."
Reading those words this morning brought me up short. Yes, I failed in my attempt. However, by Dean's reckoning, perhaps yesterday wasn't really so much a fail after all.
No matter what else happened yesterday, I will know that, despite feeling terrible, being tired and dreading the run, I did have the courage to try.
When have you had the courage to try?
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