Sometimes long runs suck. But you learn a lot.

Yesterday I ran a 22 mile long run.  It's the first true long run I have done in 2 weeks, having done a Ragnar two weekends ago and a duathlon last weekend.

My quads are telling me loud and clear today that they are NOT HAPPY.  Not happy at all.  But I'm sure they'll get over it in 2-3 days.

I actually got up early for that run and got my butt out to my favorite long-run trail (the Long Prairie Trail) by 8 A.M.  The day before had been in the upper 90s temperature-wise, and yesterday was much cooler--it was around 70 degrees when I started, and the sky was cloudy, blocking out any additional heat from the sun.  Even if there had been sun, this trail has tons of shade along the way.  In fact, the first 6 miles or so is all under a big tree canopy that looks like this:

I started off the run heading to the east, planning on going 11 miles out to the trail head in Capron and then coming back.  Those first 11 miles were pretty awesome-there was a slight breeze cooling me off, and the majority of the run was slightly downhill.  As I neared the trail head, I did have to get creative when I encountered some downed trees on the trail from the thunderstorms we had the day before:

Had to use my obstacle course skills to get around this one.

Right after this I encountered some cyclists that had passed me about three times already on the trail.  They stopped and asked me how many miles I was doing, and when I told them 22, I thought they were both going to fall off their bikes.  They wished me luck, and then cycled away from me as fast as possible.  I don't blame, them, really--when I stopped to talk to them I got a good whiff of my stinky running self at that point. I would have run away from myself if it were possible within the known laws of our universe.

Eventually I made it to the trail head, and I was feeling pretty awesome.  Legs were feeling good, and I felt like I could run forever.  I felt even awesomer when I realized I would be able to use a real bathroom located there rather than have to duck and cover in the woods along the trail for once.

Better than going in the woods.

I realized at this point that I was about half a mile shy of 11 miles, but decided to make it up by running past my car a bit when I got to the end of my run.  I started back on the trail (scampering over the downed trees a second time), feeling good and excited to be at the halfway point.  Apparently I was so excited that my legs decided to speed up on me, and I started busting out some close to 10-minute miles (my goal pace for each mile was supposed to be around 10:30).

Yeah.  This became a problem in mile 14.  My increased speed plus the fact that it was getting hotter (and now the wind was at my back) really started to take a toll on me, and I was in full blown wall-hitting mental whining by mile 15.  So I made a deal with myself-make it to Poplar Grove (3 miles away) and I would stop and get some cold water at the small convenience store there.

Those were 3 miles of mental torture.  I tried to force myself to slow down, but my legs were having none of it.  But I didn't stop.  I made it to that convenience store and to some cold refreshing water (I do wear a Camelbak on my runs, but after 3 hours the water gets a tad warm).  I tried to make my stop as brief as possible, lingering only to refill my Camelbak. I took off from Poplar Grove, knowing that I "only" had 4 more miles until I got to my car.

And I thought the 3 miles to get to Poplar Grove were tough.  These last 4 miles were pure mental hell.

It was all I could do to keep moving.  This time I actually did slow down (finally), but my legs felt heavy.  I was hot.  A sharp pain had developed in my left side.  My Camelbak was heavy again with water.  The route this time was mostly uphill. My running skirt was soaked with sweat and felt like a lead apron around my waist.  Any minor annoyance that I normally would have brushed aside became magnified in my mind to a major crisis.

But I kept going.    And finally I saw my car.  Too bad that, when I got there, I still had half a mile to go before I reached the 22-mile mark.  So what did I do?  Run back and forth near my car until I did that half mile.  I could have turned around and gone back down the trail the way I came, but at that point I desperately NEEDED to be near my car.  Turning around and running away from it would have probably caused a mental implosion of epic proportions.  So, I endured weird looks from cyclists and finished up the run by scampering back and forth in the parking lot near my car.

When I was done, I just needed to walk for a bit.  After walking around the parking lot a few times while having my recovery shake, I stopped and stretched out a bit by my car.  As I worked out my calves (which were screaming, by the way), I noticed that my skirt was sweating, leaving drops on the ground.

It was my skirt, I swears.

If you think that picture is bad, you should have seen the ground after I wrung out a corner of my skirt.  Ugh.

Apparently I was so soaked that the hubbs insisted on taking a picture of my sweaty self after I returned home:

You can't see it but I am drenched.  Also, while I didn't think I was dressed too crazily for a long run, apparently some cyclists thought my outfit was pretty entertaining and were openly mocking me as I ran.  From their comments, it seems my colors were a tad too bright for them, and the calf sleeves were a little over the top.  People, people, people--can't we all just get along and wear what we want to wear while torturing ourselves with exercise?

Despite this run having sucked the big one for the last 8 miles, I think that these types of runs teach you a LOT.  They teach you that you really should eat more than a bowl of oatmeal before going on a 22-mile run.  They teach you that you should have parked AT the trail head so you could have a downhill run after you turn around into the cool gentle breeze rather than park further down the trail.  They teach you that you will wear whatever you damn well please on a run and let the cyclists in their monochrome black outfits be the ones who are committing an exercise fashion faux pas.  They teach you to put on more deodorant before you leave so you won't gross yourself out with your own stink.

But, more importantly, they teach you how to get tough and finish what you started.  No matter what happened out there on that trail, the important thing is that I got through the rough stuff and finished the run.