The 14-Miler that Almost Wasn't

So many things were conspiring against my long run on Sunday. Well, not really. The weather was great (for a change). But I had wine the night before (new rule = no alcohol before running long) and could have eaten a better dinner. So I woke up with a stomachache, was tired, and only had latte- and lime-flavored gels (I thought I'd experiment and find other GU flavors that I liked, but anything other than chocolate is beyond gross).

Whatever. I always have excuses.

I typically aim for an out and back, but the problem is that based on where I'm at in relation to the running trail, I can either go 6 miles out to Brookfield Zoo (for a total of 12  miles) or 3 miles out to Graue Mill (for a total of 6 miles). Of course, I could run back and forth on the trail, but if I am within a mile of home, I'm more likely to go home than to run the other 5 miles (or whatever) that I need to finish out the day's long run. The thing is that some runners have told me that if you head out toward Graue Mill, there is a whole long system of trails that runs through Oakbrook. This is, in fact, true. Plus, the trails are crushed limestone, which is much better for a runner with painful shin splints than concrete is.

Alas, the problem was that even though I looked at the Salt Creek trail map, I wasn't entirely clear on where the trail ran, how long it was, etc. (This is less a case of the trail map sucking and more on account of the fact that I am a terrible map reader and was terrified of getting lost six miles from home.) So I somehow followed the trail to a golf course. And it didn't seem like I should be running through a golf course so then I doubled back and ended up running on another trail until I hit seven miles, or halfway. Except not halfway because of that little golf course detour. You know how teachers are always telling little kids why math is important in everyday life? There is nothing to tax your math skills like marathon training. It's like, okay, so I just went an extra mile in the golf course, but that means I'll be short x number of miles when I head back, right? But how many miles do I need to make up?

But really, I was tired and starving (the latte gel was especially gag-inducing). I was walking a lot (I never walked during my long training runs for the half-marathon and don't know whether I'm getting lazy or old or am terminally ill or what but I can't hack my long runs lately), and I just wanted to go home, plus I was approaching a three-hour long run and had yet to cover 13 miles, which is really saying something when you think about my half-marathon PR being 2:29.

So, thus armed with these lovely, iron-clad excuses, I went home. Only to have the husband force me out of the house to finish my 14-mile run. Well, if you know Dean, you know "force" is too strong of a word. But I was expecting him to say something like, "Oh 12 miles is plenty!" and help to reinforce my excuses. But knowing me as he does, he knew that I'd be mad at myself for the rest of the week if I lamely allowed myself to get away with yet another 12-miler. And so I left the house, and I ran. I finished.

As I was coming up to the house at around mile 13.80, I saw Ella on the steps (she had been at church when I got home the first time). It reminded me of seeing her at the finish line of so many races and nearly made me cry (I am not a crier by nature, but I had just run nearly 14 painful miles, so I think I was entitled). I wasn't quite done, so she ran to the corner with me until my Garmin chimed out mile 14. Sweet success.

And with that, I've now officially made it beyond the 13.1 threshold that has forever been my longest run.

I've never ever in my life been more excited about a cutback week than I am at this moment.

On tap this week: 3, 7, 4, 10.

You know strange things are happening in your life when a 10-miler seems easy and desirable.