First, let's look at the glass being half-full: yesterday I went out for a long-slow-distance run with Beloved Husband and covered 18 miles without serious trouble. Sure, by the end, I was pretty fed up and more than ready to stop, and yes, my pace (keeping heart-rate deliberately low) was mind-numbingly slow, but we covered the distance without me ever feeling at all doubtful that I could finish it.
And now the half-empty. Afterwards, my right knee (yes, the same villain from our long run 2 weeks ago) was seriously painful. Not that good, been-out-for-a-trot-and-loved-it kind of ache that runners know and love. More of the hurts-to-walk-round-the-grocery-store and how-the-heck-will-I-run-tomorrow kind of painful.
Up until now, I'd been foolishly assuming that as long as I followed the plan, forced myself to train even when I didn't feel like it, and stuck with the program, then a marathon would be well within my reach. Now I'm having to face the thought that something outside my control might have the final say.
I'm disappointed, scared, and tired.
Photo thanks: Simona Dumitru
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7 years ago