week 10 training recap

Miles run: 24

I do this little game on my long runs and count the miles left on my hands and fingers. A 15-mile run is 3 hands. I get excited when I'm down to 2 hands and more so when I'm on 1 hand. Within the hand counting, you've got the fingers as miles. For example, 2 hands left, 10 miles. 2 hands left, 9 miles — you get it. So, in all this, I'm trying to say: whoa — 2 hands left: 9 weeks to go. I want to celebrate this, and while I am so excited, I'm also drained.

I clawed my way through this week.

Thank God it was a cut-back week.

I found out on Monday that our dog has cancer. He's only 10, turning 11 in September. It's easier to type than say it out loud, and it's easier to put it here than to tell people individually. Also, don't interpret this as me comparing my dog's cancer diagnosis to my Mom's or when I learned she was being moved into hospice, but this has wrecked me. It's broken my heart, completely devastated me, ruined my appetite, disrupted my sleep (either sleeping too much during the day or not at all at night), you name it. Even worse, my first thought was to call my Mom and cry to her, asking her what do we do?? 

Double. Gut. Punch.

“Getting” to lose 2 of my best friends in under a year to cancer isn't fair — it straight up sucks. (I know: what is fair?). I don't throw that word around a lot, but that's the only word I have kept coming back to this week. They both have gotten me through some of the most challenging times. What do I do now? On top of this diagnosis, what I didn't mention last week is that 2 of my closest friends (siblings) learned that their Dad was being moved into hospice for end-of-life care, also due to cancer.   

More shit — more unfairness — more sadness.

All of this stirs up new feelings, old memories, trauma, and my grief from last year, which is not even remotely healed or close to being healed.

So, it's been a heavy week.  I ran through my grief last year, and I’ll continue to run through it again now, but it sucks and can be so discouraging.

Everything feels heavy.

Nothing is easy.

Everything hurts.

(I promise I'm talking about running, not day-to-day life, but if the shoe fits...).

What was planned:

Tuesday: 5

Thursday: 5

Saturday: 10

Sunday: 5

What got done:

Tuesday: I skipped these 5 and moved them to Wednesday. I haven't pushed off a run in over a month because it's easier to do it when planned than re-working my entire week. I came home after work on Tuesday and napped for 2 solid hours, like drool-napped, before heading out to dinner with our close friends. In all my sadness, though, I can always count on my friend Amanda's daughters to bring genuine smiles to my face. It was just what I needed. 

Wednesday: 3 miles. I trudged through these before work. I could've fit a fourth one in, but I said 3 was enough. After this, due to my lack of preparation and the fact that I had a work meeting 30 minutes after finishing, I treated myself to Starbucks.

Thursday: 5 miles. These felt okay. The cooler weather and on/off rain helped. I had an açaí bowl waiting for me in the fridge at home. Much like animals, I, too, am food-motivated.

Saturday: 10 miles at Valley Forge (Mt. Joy). I intended to start this long run around 6 AM, but I got terrible sleep the night before, waking up at every sound my dog made, full of worry. I started a little before 8 AM. I ate a plain bagel—literally plain, with nothing on it—and chugged an energy seltzer water on my drive to Valley Forge, trying to pump myself up.

Everything about this run felt heavy… like I was trudging through. Around mile 2, I started repeating to myself what would become my mantra for the entire run — "It's not you — it's the humidity. It's not you — it's grief. It's not you — it's life and stress”.

I so looked forward to the single track I found 2 weeks ago. When I was out on that segment, my favorite quote popped into my head — "It's a gift.”" I was reminded that 5 years ago, I couldn't walk, and I thought I’d never run again. I had no clue about the journey ahead of me and how hard it would be to get back to doing what I love, but here I am. I get to train for a 50-mile race. Even this time last year, when I was training for the Wine Glass marathon, my lower back freaked out and was in a spasm, causing pain, discomfort, and a little PTSD, thinking of August 11, 2019. (I spent this weekend in 2023 in my back brace on steroids and muscle relaxors, so really, I should be celebrating every mile I got to run this weekend in 2024). Call it toxic positivity, but I kept repeating, "It's a gift.” 

I finished my first loop of Mt. Joy, including all my extensions, and started back up to hit my final 3. I found a new loop to add to my run, which added a mile. When you're running the same loop over and over again, this is exciting, trust me. I finished and headed to Spread for my post-run treat. I was not lying when I said I wasn't getting my runs done this week without treats. I got an ice-cold Coke and a club sandwich on an everything bagel. It hit the spot.

Sunday: I had 5 miles planned and was so relieved and excited when I woke up and felt the cooler 60s as I walked outside. I procrastinated this run just a little as I snuggled my dog in bed, enjoying my morning coffee. I headed out the door before 9, surprised at how good the miles felt on tired legs and an emotionally exhausted body. I hit 5 miles and added 1 extra since I felt so good (and because I hadn't hit my full 5 from the other day). I toyed with the idea of hitting 7 but had a delicious brunch waiting at home for me.

As usual, I'm proud of getting through this week. I have no clue what the week ahead has planned for me or our dog, but I committed to running this 50-miler. I want to show up in October, knowing I gave it my all during training. So, I welcome another week of training, and we'll see what it brings.