And it sucked.
Not only was it hot, but I also didn't have any music to distract me as my 6-month old fancy dancy earbuds took a crap during Monday's track work at the Y (I'll be reviewing them at a later date and hopefully saving you from wasting your money on this particular brand).
Instead I spent the time composing an entry in my head about how much I hate running. How much I particularly hate marathon training. Scolding myself for even attempting this craziness in the first place and generally cursing my stupidity and telling you all that there are much more amusing things that can be done with you time than to run.
These feelings were most intense during miles 3 and 4, when I was trying very desperately to remind myself why I was doing this and not sitting at home in my nice air conditioned house. What came to mind were the following reasons:
- Running allows me to eat fried food, cupcakes, wine, Fisher's caramel popcorn, and french fries without feeling guilty about it.
- Running has helped me lose 15 pounds.
- Running justifies my ridiculous addiction to purchasing overpriced athletic wear (at least in my mind it does... but more on my Lulu addiction in a future entry).
- Running gives me a feeling of accomplishment.
- I have met lots of cool people because of running.
But even these reasons were not enough during mile 4. I walked for a block and then took off again, repeating my personal running mantra in my head: The faster you run, the faster you're done.
When I finally had completed my 5 miles, I didn't feel as terrible as I thought I would. I make it sound as if I were running for an eternity, but it only took me 45 minutes (probably part of the reason for me feeling like complete hell for half the time).
As usual, I was glad that I had gone, even though during the event I couldn't have been more miserable.
Now that I am home, I have treated myself to pasta, wine, bread, and a period-costume romance (Jane Eyre).
And I guess I don't hate running after all.