Sixteen

The day may have started the night before.  I laid out my shorts and shoes, drank an extra bottle of water and went to bed about two hours later than I knew I should have. I generally look forward to my long runs as a much needed chance to blow off stress.  As strange as it sounds, often a long run is very relaxing.  In this case, however, I commented to my wife that this particular long run would be anything but relaxing. 

There is no easy way to run sixteen miles.

My alarm went off at 5:00 am.  There seemed something very, very wrong about waking up at this ungodly hour on the only day of the week that I could (in theory) sleep in.  I usually don't mind getting up early on the weekends, but this morning, I was particularly tired and resented myself for forcing me out of bed.  I made a mental note to have a serious discussion with my other self about how rude it is to drag people out of bed - a conversation that I would save for a time when I could control my emotions a little better.

I dressed for the long run - including all the little extras that go with long run attire, filled my water bottles with ice and water, added a Cliff Bar for good measure and stepped outside.

The temperature stood at a pleasant 70 degrees or so, but I could tell that, as most mornings in Central Texas, that it would be humid.

The local running group would be doing six miles later that morning.  I planned to meet up with them for part of my run, thinking that even if I could have company for six it might ease the burden of sixteen.  I knew full well however, there is no easy way to run sixteen miles.

The darkness had all but dissipated by the time I reached the park and started running.  There are AWESOME trails at this park and I intended to spend as much time as possible climbing the hills in order to get some good practice for Cactus Roses (the 50 mile race in October).  Apprehension got the best of me for the moment.  I hadn't been more then a month since I had seen 3 snakes in 3 days on trails.  I knew that I was the first (and for the moment, only) person in the park.  I didn't know how long a snake...such as an 8 foot rattlesnake might wish to lounge on a soft dirt trail after a long night hunting mice, but I had no intentions of being the first to come running up on him and find out just how much venom those fangs can hold.  I resolved to stick to the roads for a little while.  There were plenty of hills on the roads and I could do some trails later - after someone else scared all the rattlers and copperheads back into hiding.

I followed the road up and down the hills for just over six miles before coming to rest with a large group of people all dressed in running gear and chatting about handheld water bottles vs. running belts (handhelds all the way!).  Someone commented that I didn't look like I was off to a good start, based on my sweat soaked shirt and the fact that they hadn't begun to run yet.  I replied that I started a little earlier...trying not to draw attention (or remind me) that even though I had already done a 10k, I wasn't even half way finished.  There is no easy way to run sixteen miles.

We started as a group just after 7:30.  I was good and warm, plus slightly rested from the breather I took while waiting for the group to start.  So honestly, it is probably my fault that the pace started so fast.  The chit-chat was quickly cut as the 5 of us who lead the group charged up the hills at an 8 minute/mile pace.  We submitted the hill...and accelerated.  I thought to myself that surely this pace would slow after a mile or two.  I was wrong.  Each time I thought I would be forced to give some, someone else took the charge.  We finished the first three mile loop in under 24 minutes...certainly not an Olympic pace but for a bunch of guys with day jobs, running on a Saturday morning, I thought it wasn't too bad.

We all stopped for water; by this time the temperature had climbed to well over 80 and it was still pretty humid.  Then we took off again.  Whatever hope I had for some reprieve on the second loop was dashed to pieces as we clicked off the first mile (mile 4 for the group, 9 for me) in 7:30.  We averaged a 7 flat for the last mile and 7:56 for the total 6 miles.  I thought to myself, "This would have been a great run...except that I still have to go 4 more miles."  There's no easy way to run sixteen miles...but sprinting 6 of them sure didn't help.

I headed to the trails and proceeded to climb the hills as best I could.  My legs felt like jelly and my clothing looked like it had been submersed in a pool...a very stinky pool.  Still I charged up and down the hills, thinking each time as I gasped for precious air, of the Cactus Rose elevation map that looked less like an elevation map and more like the Teton Mountain Range.

I finished my loop of the trails and came out facing Jacob's Ladder.  If you haven't had the privilege of climbing Jacob's Ladder after a 15 mile...you are smart.  I made the climb and jogged around towards the car thinking that this was challenging work out and I was satisfied that I had pushed myself, when I saw a fellow runner jogging towards me.  We stopped to exchange pleasantries.
 "How far did you go?" I asked.
"I just finished 20.  How far are you going?"
"Sixteen," I responded.
"How much more do you have?"
I looked longingly towards my car, only yards away...to sit, to drink cold water, to feel the air conditioning...I forced my gaze down to my watch.  15.3 miles, it read.
"Point 7," I coughed.
"Go finish it up," he said, pushing me back toward the trail.
It had been a good, hard run and an extremely challenging workout.  But it was not yet done.  After all, there is no easy way to run sixteen miles.