When Running Really F*cking Sucks

Last weekend, everyone’s mileage levels got real serious.

I slogged through 19 miles. That sounds like a lot -- and it is --  but this distance is bearable. Reason being, you don’t wake up one morning out of the blue and just randomly decide to run 19 miles. You work up to it. While these runs really put the L in LSD*, if you’ve done everything you’re supposed to do, you survive just fine.

So I chugged my way through each mile, put one foot after the other, and finished all 19 tired but strong.

This post is not about those 19 miles sucking. They were actually pretty fine. What I’m finding funny today is that those 19 miles were a piece of cake to the pathetic 3.5 miles I just ran.

If you could even call whatever I just did running. Imagine something more like… what someone looks as they slosh through waist-high waves. But there were no waves. It was just me trying to run on the streets of Chicago, imagining that everyone was secretly pointing at me because your speedwalking great-grandma could have covered ground faster than me.

I know I can’t beat myself up about this. My body is tired. I’ve been training hard. Even though I took a day off post 19-miler, my body is still recovering from those 3+ hours of pounding on pavement. And this is what preparing for a marathon is all about. Having the discipline to run when it hurts because training your muscles to get their ass in gear even when they’re mad at you is what you need to do during that marathon.

But still. Regardless of the reasoning behind why, today running really f*cking sucked. And that just f*cking sucks. Because running is supposed to be something I mildly enjoy. Unfortunately, on some days, that’s not the case. Some days it just really f*cking sucks.

I mentioned in my last blog post about new shoes that I knew there would be runs like this -- the kind when I question why I am even running in the first place. Yet that’s all kind of part of the deal. You never know when these bad runs are going to hit you. Sometimes you feel fine leading up to your run and for some reason (or no reason) you take two steps and know the next few miles will without a doubt be awful. But you trod through them anyway because

1. That’s what you’re supposed to do and

2. What if a neighbor was watching and saw you take two steps then turn around and walk back into your apartment? That would be embarrassing and silly.

So run/shuffle/plow on I did. And was I happy I did? Eh. Not really. I was happy at the end I didn’t have to do it anymore. And hey, since today was so f*cking sucky, that means my next run will be better, right? Let’s hope!

*LSD = runner speak for long slow distance.

— Betsy