Long Run: No Matter How Much It Hurts, Just Keep Moving

Saturday we ran our first 20 mile long run in anticipation of the Route 66 Marathon in Tulsa.  It was warm and humid, and I was still ridiculously sore from a full day of gardening two days prior. I was sore in places not usually challenged by running, and I knew it would only get worse the farther I got into the run.

M woke up when I did at 4:30AM and commented on all the fire trucks and sirens he heard all night.  I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then remembered it was the Texas/OU game.  I heard the low rumble of bass from a passing car outside our house and later noticed there was much more traffic as I drove to meet my friends.

Usually we have the streets of Dallas to ourselves on these early Saturday morning runs.  And when you run 20 miles, you cover a lot of city streets.

 (Michael Friedhoff)

It was warm and humid when we started at 5:30AM, 73 degrees and 76% humidity, but thankfully there was a brisk breeze to keep us cool.  It was also overcast, which is always welcome on a Texas long run, regardless of the season.

There were six of us who started, and the usually quiet streets were already awake with Texas/OU fans.  Some we could tell hadn’t made it to bed from last night’s downtown debauchery; others were either en route to the game itself or a bar where they could snag a seat to watch the game on HD.

We ran one of our favorite routes, which takes us downtown past the public library, city hall, the Old Red Courthouse, the JFK Memorial, and Dealey Plaza, which is the exact location where JFK was assassinated from the 6th floor of the School Book Depository.  We stopped to look at the two X’s that are permanently marked on the road to show where he was killed, and to look at the window where Lee Harvey Oswald stood that day and changed history.

I’m always happy to hit the halfway point in a long run, but at 10 miles my legs already felt like they usually do at mile 24 of a marathon.  They were really, really sore, almost to the point where I felt like I was limping.  I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow, I thought, and trudged on.

An on and on and on.  Through downtown, over the trolley tracks and cobblestones of McKinney Ave, along Turtle Creek and the opulence of Highland Park, and up the Katy Trail.  Keep moving.

I finally fell apart around mile 17.  My legs cried uncle and I had to walk.  Normally this would feel like a defeat so close to the finish, and I would come in with my head hanging low, but I knew better than to push it.  20 milers are notorious for causing injuries, and starting on sore muscles was only asking for trouble.  Hari, who is not even training for a marathon, needed to back off as well, and we walked it in together.  After more than 4 hours of running, my feet were aching.

No matter how much it hurt, though, I was loving it.

Two weeks ago I had a fantastic 18 mile long run.  The weather was cool and I felt strong and smooth.  On the drive home, I had the thought that I’ve had many times after a long run:  I wish I had the energy to keep going.  As in, keep running all day, for the rest of the day.

When I’m not training for a marathon, the thought of a 20 mile long run causes me to shudder in wonder and revulsion.  I forget that it’s simply a matter of building up the mileage, week by week, run by run, until it’s not only possible, but attainable.  I forget how much I enjoy it.

There’s something about the long run that keeps me coming back.  Part of it is the challenge of pushing myself physically and mentally beyond my previous limits.    Part of it is being outdoors when most of the city still sleeps, when the only thing that matters is making it to the next water stop.  But mostly, it’s the fellowship of running mile after mile with a group of people I’ve grown to love, people who know exactly what I’m made of, who’ve seen me when even my worst was the best I could give.

It’s difficult to explain.  Something happens when you’re having a good long run.  Something clicks in your brain.  Body and mind come together and everything flows.

No matter how tired you are, life funnels down to only one thought: keep moving.  That’s all you have to do, keep moving.  It’s stunningly beautiful in its simplicity.  There’s nothing else that needs to be done, nothing that needs to be worried about, nothing other than this one thing that you love:  RUNNING.

 (Michael Friedhoff)

 

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