Runners Brain + Math = Doh!

The results of this equation are at the end of this entry via photos.

The alarm goes off when the whole world is snoring in a deep state of slumber way before the sun rises, and here I am getting out of bed. As soon as I'm standing my husband of four and half years whose back was towards me rolls to my side and clasps onto my pillow. I need to get ready to make up the Team In Training Coach led run I missed yesterday due to class.

Fully dressed to run 16 miles, I eat my instant oatmeal and banana. My fuel belt it fully loaded with my favorite GU, Outrageous Chocolate and Tri-Berry, along with Lemon Gatorade. Out the door and at Campbell Park before 7 am. Ten minutes worth of stretching and I'm off.

Along the trail I run to Willow Glen and back to Campbell. Five miles done, great, 11 miles to go. Here is where things become a little tricky, by mile six on my way to Los Gatos the back of my foot above the heel is being scratched and burns. The top of the sock falls below my ankles leaving my bare skin exposed the high back of my shoe. Now to run ten miles while my shoes rub the skin off the back of my feet. Ugh. Ignore the pain. It's not there. Listen to the whistle, is what I tell myself.

The whistle is new to my running regimen. It's an ordinary whistle with a ball inside that I hope to never use to ward off attackers. But the ball, is bounces inside the whistle with every stride. It sounds like I'm running with a rattle. There's no way I'm sneaking up behind anyone. Dogs in the surrounding neighborhoods bark as I approach and pass their homes. You can hear them barking several yards away. People walking or running their dogs look behind them to see where the rattle is coming from. A couple of dogs whimper and a few lunge for me. Some passersby leer and seem annoyed. You try running so many miles listening to this.

I'm tired and need to use a restroom bad when I reach mile ten. Luckily I know a little league field is quickly coming up complete with restrooms. I rejoice and smile with the little sign points to the field. I stop my watch and go. Hmm, mile 10.48, I'll need to turn around soon. This is where the Doh! part of the title comes in.

The math here is simple. I ran five miles, two and half miles out and two and half miles back is five, subtract from 16 and you're left with 11 miles left. Divide 11 by two and you have five and half. From Campbell to Los Gatos I need to run out five and half miles and turn around. Easy, add five to five and half to get ten and half. I need to turn around at mile 10.5, at the little league field, but that's not what I do.

No, I continue south bound deeper into Los Gatos. Pass the little league field, crossing Highway 17 on a bridge painted with murals from the local children, pass Los Gatos High School and towards the Lexington Dam. Why did I do this? Because I added 5.5 to 6 rather than 5. Why? Runners brain. There's a point when a runner is tired and stops thinking other than running and finishing. That was me. I ran an extra mile after my turn around point. Of course I realize this when I turn around. Now I'm in for 18 miles. Wah!

I cut corners where ever I can which is hardly anywhere. I stop at mile 16 and walk the remainder two miles. I am not going to run 18. My bleeding heels, back of my feet, whatever you want to call that part of the body hurts. My legs are sore and my knee is bothering me. And the heat? It's climbing. Yesterday it was in the 90s by 10 am, today it's a lot cooler but still warm. I'm tired and just want to go home.

After completing my 16 mile run and two mile walk I immediately call my husband. I was suppose to call him when I was done but told him to call me if he didn't hear from me by 9:30 am. I left my mobile phone in the car. By the time I call it's nearly 10:30, an hour late.

I go home and before I prepare myself for an ice bath I show him my boo-boos. Take a look for yourself.

Yep, it hurts.

How was I able to run 10 miles and walk 2 miles like this?

As of today these shoes are retired. They are blood stained and surpassed 300 miles.

Not looking forward to this...

because it hurts! My husband heard me howl at the other end of our apartment.
I've retired these socks too!

The Iceman Cometh

I can hear the car pull up and park. The hot engine roars and is promptly turned off. I can hear the driver open his door and lug something heavy out of his truck. The man accidentally drops his cargo as he slams the trunk shut. I hear a large crash on the pavement. He grunts.

How much time do I have before he reaches the door? Locking them won't keep him out. His heavy footsteps slowly ascend the staircase. I hide in the kitchen.

I hear him at the top of the stairs followed by a slushy noise as he sets his package on the floor. The enters the lock and a loud resonant clicked throughout the entire apartment. He's here. He's in!

With a loud booming voice he directs me,

Come out, come out wherever you are...

No, no, can't we postpone this?
Get in. Start the water.
Must I?

With a scary grin,

This is for your own good. Now get in. Now.

I do as directed. I climb into the tub clothes and all. He drops the large 2o pound bag of ice next to the tub and leaves the bathroom.

I don't hear the water running.

When he returns he's glad to see that I have obeyed him. My legs are nearly submerged in cold water and rising. His creepy grin is now stretched from ear to ear. And with a baby voice he softly asks,
Are we ready for the ice now?

No.

Well too bad. Here is comes.

The man instructs me to shut the water off. As soon as I sit back the ice has landed on my lap. The cold water splashes everywhere. The large shards of ice slowly brush up against my bare legs. The man finishes pouring the entire bag in the tub and disperses the ice all around my legs.
We don't want the ice to concentrate on one area, now don't we? We want it everywhere.

Before he leaves the bathroom he sets a timer for ten minutes and says,
Remember, this is for your own good. You want this, I'm only here to help.

I shiver and shake uncontrollably. I can see every hair on my legs stand on end. My toes are freezing despite wearing wool socks. At least the man lends me a heavy sweatshirt to wear while in the tub.

He comes in with a individual carton of soy chocolate milk and tosses it into the bath.

Drink up.

How much longer do I have? When will this end?

As I slowly drink my chocolate soy milk the ice has melted but the water remains cold. The timer goes off and the man walks in with a goofy grin.

Oh, it's OK now. You can stand up. Wasn't that good? Don't frown like that, this was your idea, remember? It's good for you! You're going to thank me when your legs aren't sore tomorrow. Good job on running ten miles, Sweetie. Here's a bag for your wet clothes. Now go ahead and take a nice warm shower. I'll prepare your lunch.

Yes, it was my idea. Everything time I run any double digit amounts I take a ten minute ice bath. When I get out the blood rushes to my legs and removes all the lactic acid build up that cause soreness. My husband "helps me" in a very loving I'm getting you back kind of way.

After running 10 miles and taking the cold soak my legs were not sore the next day. Thank you, Sweetheart.