Sunday, October 4, 2009

Blind Man's Bluff

I'm done. My body doesn't want to run anymore. I tried a twenty miler again and my legs stopped dead at fifteen. No pain. No breathing issues. No nothing. Physically, I felt fine. But I had zero energy. I was bonked to the core.

Maybe I haven't been eating right? Or sleeping right? Or my sinus infection is eating the motivation centers in my brain? Also, I ran out of recover drink last week and used M's. Maybe that's the problem? Blah. There are too many variables. More likely, my body just sucks. This whole thing has put me in a foul mood.

As for M. . . take a wild guess. Yeah. Eighteen miles. No problem. Using her quick & dirty training method, she maneuvered around me. And accelerated away. After her run, she was shining. Giddy. And excited about planning her twenty miler for next week. Oh, and she saw a herd of elk. Not one or two elk. A herd!

Okay. . . here's a rehash of my crappy run. Why? I don't know. First, it was raining nearly the entire time. Ghoulish gray clouds moved overhead. The wind clicked them into fast-forward. At mile four, I was soaked to the bone. My shoes squished. I kept having to wipe off my glasses. Finally, I gave up and shoved them in my pocket. Screw it. I'm near-sighted so what little remained of my depth perception, I used to watch the trail for rocks. I gave up on seeing any wildlife.

At mile eight the sun peaked out (see photo). I was feeling okay and even wondered if I could do twenty. But then I climbed out of Sandy Canyon and the drizzle turned into pellets. As I stumbled over the rocks, I thought about my running philosophy, the one I wrote up yesterday. How stupid. How cocky. Commit to running? Me? Yeah, right. Every chance I get, I make fun of the sport. And I absolutely refuse to call myself a runner. I also said it doesn't matter if I finish? Huh? Of course, it matters. It's not the journey, it's the destination. Screw all that character-building crap. As my friend S says, I don't need anymore character. I've spent all this fricken time and energy. If I don't finish, I'm a big freaking failure. Duh. That philosophy was retarded.

When I climbed out of the canyon and onto the bluff, I ran to Lake Mary Road. It was raining so hard, I nearly ran into the middle of the street. The pavement was slick. Each passing car sprayed me with water. When I hit twelve miles, I bonked. My head was water-logged. And my attitude sunk. I was tempted to hitchhike home, but I looked so scary, I knew nobody would pick me up. It was here, that I saw the tarantula. A big orange and silver, hairy-backed creepy thing, trying to cross the blacktop. It had like ten eyes, but it couldn't see it was headed straight into traffic. I directed it over to the side of the road with my shoe and took a blurry photo of it.

Yeah, that's right. M sees a heard of elk. I see a nasty little spider. Makes sense, eh? So, on I went. After running down Lake Mary, I needed six more miles to get to twenty. It looked bleak. I had only been running for three hours. If I was going for time (which M thinks I should do), I needed to be up around four hours. But that wasn't going to happen. As I said before, my body was done. I only managed one more stinking mile and started to walk.

On my walk home, the wind was frigid. Eyes of the World came on my player and I scowled. I started hating the song. And then hating the Dead. I was getting pretty sick of them. Truth be told, I am more of a shoe-gazer than a rock-n-roller. If I had a time machine and could see one show from the sixties, well, I'd have to choose the Velvet Underground. My favorite album for five years straight? Loveless by My Bloody Valentine. And my favorite concert? It's not much of a contest. Jesus and Mary Chain, Curve and Spiritualized at the Gothic in '92. I got destroyed in the mosh pit.

Anyway, I'm trying to stay positive. Hoping for sunnier skies. And sure, I still like the Dead. . . I skipped Eyes and went straight to Lovelight. Sing it Pigpen! You funny little man. And okay, fine. I haven't completely given up on NYC. But I can't see how I'm going to do this damn thing.

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