As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, this weekend my plans included a 10 miler in preparation for this Saturday’s Brooklyn Half Marathon.  This will be my second time completing this half marathon. I originally signed up after Heather and other local bloggers posted that they had registered. I hoped it would be a great blogger event and end in a beach picnic after! Alas, multiple NYC runners are on the sidelines with injuries and other priorities.  I hadn’t thought much about the half until last weekend when I realized my very successful 14.5 miler last month had given me a bit too much of a confidence boost. Over the past month my long runs faded into a distant memory as my weekends were filled with moving, parties, and trips. Last Sunday night I had a wake up call and realized with only two weeks left it was time to bite the bullet. I’m going to run this half, I’m going to enjoy it, and I’m going to spend the next two weeks preparing for it mentally, physically, and emotionally!
Tonight, I want to talk about the mental and emotional side of running.
As runners, we all want every run to be perfect. Lace up the shoes, chug the last gulp of water, verify for the 10th time that your iPod is fully charged, grab the emergency cash and head out the door. In your head, this will be the greatest run you’ve ever had. You’re groove and pace will set within the first half mile and people will turn in awe as they see you stride past them. Your mind will release all the tension and thoughts of the day or week as you run past each mile hurdle. Glancing at your watch you’re amazed how long you’ve run already and decide to add an extra mile for good measure since you’re in your stride. As sweat beads on your forehead you realize that you have finally evolved into a runner. You’re confident in your motions and proud. This is what you always wanted to do and be. That cute gal in great physical shape, toned legs that reflect the hours of street and treadmill pounding, a watch and sports bra tan to which leave fresh reminders of your long runs in the sun, and endorphins that could blow any chemical high out of the water!
Oh wait, that isn’t every run. In fact, that’s probably more like one in every ten runs if you’re lucky.
My weekday morning runs tend to be mechanical in style. I reach the Equinox. Walk the two flights up to my favorite treadmill, perfectly positioned between the Channel 4 news and the fan. After putting my water bottle and towel in place I set the speed to 6.2 and take off for a 4-5 mile run depending on the day. I leave sweaty, enjoying minimal endorphins, and glad to check another day off on my running calendar. Success, I tackled the 5:15 wakeup call and completed that run without any issues. Some days I even consider upping the speed the next day depending on my confidence level. Maybe that speed work is actually helping!
My weekend long run is a whole different story. I think about it the night before, rolling my legs in anticipation hoping to loosen any worry from my limbs. I think about what I put in my body more within the 24 hours preceding a long run than any other point in the week. What if I actually thought about the rest of the week as much as this Friday or Saturday before my double digit run.
I wake up, enjoy my normal toast or oatmeal fuel, chug plenty of water, and begin praying. “Please let this be another run that helps my confidence levels. Please let me enjoy this instead of feel it’s a chore. Help me think of this as a way to see NYC. Choose a new path today Ashley as it’ll make the run more interesting.”
Then, with a hope and a prayer I set out. I’ve come to embrace NYC as a running city over the last year. The first few months running in the city caused me great anxiety as I would go crazy every time a stop light diverted me in a different direction off my path. But, with time I’ve started to find the positive in this and use it to force me down different streets and avenues. I use this opportunity to explore new areas and communities within Manhattan. This Sunday I ran with no route, map, or idea of where I’d head. I had one goal in mind and that was to run 100 minutes around Manhattan and end back in Gramercy.
The first seven miles were smooth sailing. Running through Chelsea made me smile as I took in the multiple street parades, open air bars, day drinkers, and other people whose happiness was contagious. I made a wrong turn and ended up in Chinatown which turned into a Nintendo game of sorts. I was the character dashing in and out of obstacles, increasing my strides just to get through Canal Street. At one point I felt invincible as I abandoned the sidewalks and took to the bus lane heading down Canal Street. In my head a bus would honk if he needed to get around. Until then I wasn’t risking a twisted ankle or strained ligament just to pivot around the street vendors and fake Gucci purses. Mile six lead me down towards Bo’s old apartment in the Financial District. I reminisced back to the days of running in this area each morning with the energy of Wall Street surrounding me. Unfotunately for me, it was around this area that the fun ended.
At 70 minutes my legs started to feel like lead. My ankles were sore and the mid afternoon sun was shining stronger than I’d expected. My Lululemon crop pants were comfortable but not as cool as my old favorite Nike shorts. I regretted wearing a run tank and t-shirt instead of just a run tank. I dreamed of the CamelBak I’d meant to order a week earlier. I thought about stopping and hailing a cab. “Seven miles is better than nothing. You’ve run a lot this week. You deserve a break.”  But, I knew that I had to be mentally stronger than this if I want to train for the NYC Marathon and finish this weekend’s half. I thought about Ashley and other runners who often discuss the benefits of running slowly and going far versus stopping. I slowed my pace to around a 10:30 and focused on positive thought. Similar to Anne’s long run this weekend, I used the last 3 miles to enjoy the wonderful spring weather, count my blessings, and discover my neighborhood. I hauled it back to Gramercy so I could enjoy the sights. I looked up, around, and forward but refused to look down. I didn’t want to see the heavy weight of my feet pounding the ground. And then, I heard the bell. The sound of ten miles done. Mental strength outweighing my sore, tired body.
In that moment, I smiled, wiped the sweat from my forehead and no
nodded. It wasn’t the best run, it wasn’t the worst run, but it was today’s run. This weekend, come 7am Saturday morning, I will look forward and smile as I realize all that my legs have allowed me to see and do over the years. Then, with a quick prayer and good wish, I’ll put one foot in front of the other as I set out to explore Brooklyn and Coney Island again. Hopefully this time the power of positive thought can help me see a few sights that I didn’t notice last year and run with just a bit more confidence.