Until two years ago I essentially took these hot, sweaty, humid days of summer off, making an occasional trip to the YMCA treadmills for an hour of Dr. Phil and to watch the little red dots form a circle on my console over and over again. Jenny gently persuaded me to start running regularly in the summertime, and lo and behold, it wasn't a death march. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't as horrible as I'd envisioned. It meant earlier mornings and a quick glance at the weather radar on my BlackBerry for any red or purple blobs sitting over the park at 6am, but it wasn't too bad.
Last Sunday I had a 7-miler on the schedule. As planned, I wasn't in the greatest shape for this 7-miler and it wasn't easy, but it was quick. As excited as I'd been to "only" have 7 miles on my schedule, and as fun as it was to be the second shift of the other girls' longer mileage, for the rest of the day I felt kind of bereft. I was cranky and edgy, like something was missing. I felt like I hadn't run at all, and lacked the energy and self-satisfaction that I've come to expect on Sundays.
We had a ton of rain early last week, and we called speed work on Tuesdays. I had intended to make up the workout on Thursday, but mid-day felt suddenly very ill. I decided that running in the heat was not a great idea, so I cancelled out. As I was trying to re-work my plan for the remainder of the week I realized something: I had only run 1 mile that week. ONE MILE!! That mile had been my PT test (7:32) on Wednesday morning.
I quickly texted Jenny and she (and later I found out, Mark) and I came up with a plan for some make up miles. I did my regularly scheduled Friday morning hill run with the girls (7 miles) and then an additional 4 at the track, including 1/4 mile on the bleachers. With 16 scheduled for Sunday, I was back on track (so to speak :)).
Sunday Jamie, Jenny, Carin and I made the trek to Clearwater Beach so that we could get some solid hill training in, courtesy the two large and steep bridges along the 16-mile route we mapped out. We ascended the first bridge the first mile of our run, and I was already winded. That began a chain of negative thoughts that started with, "And this is only the FIRST mile. In the heat. With the wind you thought was certain on a beach completely absent. With three other bridges left to run. And this is something you've chosen to do for some stupid reason..."
I continued to have a cautious attitude about the run for a lot of the miles. Carin at one point said, "You okay? Seems like you aren't 'feeling it' this morning..." I was okay, but she was right. I wasn't feeling it, at all.
We had run out of water and were getting nervous, but knew we could make it to the Marriott where runners were welcome to use their restrooms and refill their water bottles at the fountain. Before we got there we saw Jenny and Jamie, excitedly waving to us. "We have a surprise for you!" A water fountain? Nope, better than that - a water fountain AND a mister - glorious Florida-style outdoor A/C. We got sprayed, refilled, Gu'ed and left refreshed. Just 5 miles left to go...
We ascended the steep and quad-trashing Sand Key bridge, and the ran back down it, 4 miles left to run through Clearwater Beach's newly renovated "beach walk" studded with water fountains and populated by other cheerful and friendly runners and bikers. I looked to my left and the sky was pink and the water was calm. I looked to my right and saw a man practicing tai chi as the sun rose. I said to Carin, "We are so lucky." She said, "To have a great place to run? I know." We were both starting to get tired and my good attitude was waning and that last steep bridge was approaching. It signaled the end of a hot August summer run, but it still had to be conquered. Jamie and Jenny had finished the first 16 miles, and decided to run the bridge once more, and met us as the base. We followed them up and over, then down the helix to the parking lot ... the finish line of a favorite race that follows this same route (but was 2.9 miles shorter).
We ran a circuitous route to the car to get our 16 miles in (my Garmin had died about 9 miles in to the run, so I was dependent on Carin to let me know when we were done). Chuck and the kids had met us there so we could go on down the beach for a day of boating, so after eating some delicious homemade pumpkin muffins Jenny had made, we took off. As we left and Chuck asked me how it was, I said, "Alright - it was hard, and hot..."
Then today, when I was going through all of those magazines which were geared toward races and race times and race readiness, it all kind of came together. Running in the heat and humidity of summertime in FL is really not fun. It's not. It's probably what defines me as an official "runner" more than anything else I do - more than the medals or the repeats or the drawer full of tempo shorts. In two months racing season will begin again and I will not regret one single summertime run I've endured the past three months. When I ascend those two Clearwater bridges in a few months I'll be able to remember that August summer day when I sweated through the effort and even ran 3 additional miles over the half-marathon distance, and the race will be that much easier. When the marathon starting gun goes off on a misty October morning on the other side of the United States, I'll be grateful that the mist is sea fog and not the rolls of humidity we ran through. When my repeat times suddenly take a nose-dive, I'll be able to thank the weeks I spent on asphalt that had baked all day in the summer heat.
So I decided this morning it's okay to hate running in the summer. I love it enough to stay loyal and dedicated. Running and I can get through the hard times because I know there are some great times ahead, and that running and I will be better for what we've endured together. Running and I are in this for the long haul, and my affection for it will ebb and flow, but after 5 years of subscribing to Runner's World, it's pretty safe to say I'm here to stay.
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