Wednesday, August 07, 2013

sept. 7. 2013 part deux

"You're not puking and nothing's broken, so get going." ~ Vivian McQueeney to her husband, Scott, during the Badwater ultra marathon (2000)

we're t-minus 31 days to september 7. which explains the queasy feeling in my stomach.

it turns out training for 26.2 miles is hard. after back-to-back 37-mile weeks, my body is looking at me sideways, saying, "you, sir, are a jerk."

i'm used to the shorter runs ~ six, 8, 10 miles, up to a half marathon. on the trails, on the roads, at lunch, after work. i've been doing those for a couple years. the long runs? 14.7 miles, 16, 18, up to 20 next week. these are different. and they're taking a toll. 

so far the aches and pains are tolerable. the fatigue and recovery, however, are a work in progress. as noted elsewhere, i've contracted a good case of carpolepsy ~ "a chronic, inexorable need for a lunch-hour nap in one's car. symptoms include apathy toward remaining upright, inability to do anything requiring open eyes, and system-wide dullness, languor, and torpor."

i think it's the dullness, languor and torpor that troubles me the most. maybe. i don't know. whatever.

what i do know is, where i used to routinely go get some lunch, go shopping for shoes, or  head out for a run, now i whatever i can't finish this who cares where are my keys


finding a shady spot to park is important. away from other cars and foot traffic is preferable. windows down far enough to let in a breeze, not so far as to let in random birds. seat back as far as possible. rolled up yoga mat for neck support. turn off the phone. deep breath...

bam, it's an hour later. where am i? what day is it? where'd these feathers come from? i may have eaten a bird.


bird or no, at this point i'm always starving. and i never bring enough food. this happens every day! why don't i bring more food?? f*ck! i keep a jar of peanut butter in my cabinet for just these occasions. i'm eating peanut butter. i don't particularly care for peanut butter, but, you know, where's my spoon?
aloha, turtle! knife and fork? oh, these. these are just,
you know, ceremonial. come closer, see for yourself.


i have one of these 36 oz. bottles at my desk, and it gets refilled about three times a day. with water. because i'm drinking a lot of water. 

i also have a water bottle in my car. there are too many variables in a long commute to be without it. even in seattle, where it rains a lot. i don't want to find myself broken down on the side of the road, dehydrated, hoping someone will drive by and splash water in my mouth. 

do you know the word "desiccation"? it's not a pretty word, and i don't want to be associated with it. ever.


at some point in the past few months i went from, "i have no interest in running a marathon," to "i might want to run one at some point," to "i've signed up to run a  marathon on september 7." i don't know when the tipping point happened, but it's set off a little cascade of epiphanies that i'm still processing and will write about at some point if i can keep from losing consciousness. that was a long, awkward sentence. i don't care.

it's not like several people haven't run marathons before me. they have. and it's statistically probable that some of them did so without contracting carpolepsy. so, in the interest of salvaging whatever dignity i may have left, i believe i'll just shut up and run.

current status: not puking. nothing broken. getting going.

on my feet and moving.

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