11 miles Saturday through the rural roads around the outskirts of Broadway. My friend Butch, who's run 37 marathons, planned the route and paced me for seven miles before we parted ways (he still chalked up a total of 10 miles).
In the beginning the scenery made the running hard. I wanted to stop and kiss the cows, pet the sheep and goats, admire the mules and explore an old stone spring house--not because of lung or leg pain (yet anyway! but just because . . .). If I'd have had a camera on me, and could have taken photos, I am sure the temptation to shoot the scenery WOULD have been too much. But I kept going, the carrot of the upcoming 13 Miler dangling in my mind's eye just five weeks ahead of me.
At about an hour I realized I hadn't walked yet, and my thigh muscles were shouting as I climbed another hill. And then it dawned on me. . .I was noticing my legs, and not my lungs. Whenever I noticed I was starting to breathe hard, I slowed a bit, and then drew in long, slow breaths, and then released the air as slowly as I could -- cleansing breaths. That, too, worked. . .slowing and relaxing my system. Today I blew a 400 on my peak flow meter; I've never gotten over 350 before. So the old lungs are continuing to heal.
Moreover I ran the whole 1 hour, 54 minutes (about a 10:23 pace) without any walking breaks. Since a bad fall in December 2003, I've taken walk breaks on every run greater than five miles.
At mile 10 I thought, I just need to walk for a minute. And then I heard my running coach, from a tape recording in my brain, "Ten minutes. The time it takes to push a baby out. Push." And I said to myself, "Deliver the baby, Nete. Deliver the baby." And I kept running. . .And at 10 1/2 miles, I repeated, "Five more minutes. Push, Nete, push. Deliver that baby. Push, Nete, push. Deliver the baby" And it worked. Mantras can be a good thing.
My virtual NY running partner was full of praise when he returned my voice mail message yesterday. Though in the past he's teased me stating, "I'll leave you in my dust;" his return message ended, "I think you're going to give me a run for my money." I still think he'll be amazed at the progress he's made. . .there's no fair way of comparing times and miles ran in snow and cold with those run in Virginia rain and temps in the mid-40s to 50s.
Slog on, my friends, slog on!
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