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Before adapting any of my training methods, I highly recommend checking with your doctor, or better yet, a psychiatrist. Yesterday was another prime example that may render me off my rocker.
I hadn’t had a training run since Rev3 race in Knoxville on May 18th, which would nearly be a month. So, I eased back in, right?
Sometimes you just get the itch to run and yesterday was no exception. I waited until late afternoon to simulate the Louisville heat and took off toward our own little “Energy Lab” uncertain how much I would push.
Nashville’s Energy Lab
I’ve been dealing with plantar fasciitis in my heel since Ironman Wisconsin last September and the time off (along with my new “cure” which I will post soon) felt like it was paying off. The problem was, my other ankle felt completely wank for the first couple miles. I mean, it was sore enough to make me want to quit, but I trusted the pain would subside, and it did.
At mile 3, I entered the Energy Lab. This place is hard to describe, but desolate is a good place to start. It’s an old airport that was a victim of the Nashville Flood and now acts as a slice of heaven for anyone who takes training seriously.
There is zero shade and the wide blacktop runways act as magnets for the sun. It is a legit 1.2 mile loop with 800 yard straightaways that feel like you’re running toward the end of the earth. It only took one lap to feel a noticeable increase in my body temperature.
I had a full water bottle and by the time I completed lap two, it was nearly gone. Parched, distraught, and hallucinating, I couldn’t have been happier. A perverted love sank into my body as I gazed at flying monkeys and miniature giraffes.
Transition to the Trails
After taking a few pictures of the most beautiful place on earth, I left hell in my wake and headed to the grassy trails. It was like taking an ice bath in comparison to the Lab and I cruised at a 9 minute pace for a mile and a half. The excessive sweating in the Lab forced me to take off my glasses, so I ran the shaded trails with hazy vision.
There were a lot of little grooves, ruts, and bumps on the trail, and since I couldn’t really see them coming, my “psychological angle” was to run lightly. These are the little games I continually play while running. Opportunity to roll an ankle lurked the entire way, but I stayed awake and in the moment with each stride. Confident and aware of the slightest variance in my foot plant. It was a small, but important practice that I believe will help my running.
The trail dumped me back onto the blacktop Shelby Bottoms Greenway and I reached the Nature Center seven miles into the run. Most of my runs go by feel and I was now either 3 or 5 miles from home depending on the next decision. I refilled my bottle, and drank water like I’d spent a day in the desert. I stretched for a couple minutes, then slowly jogged toward the split with no firm decision.
When I hit the fork in the road, I decided my legs deserved 5 more miles, but the terrain would make it feel like ten.
Embracing the Hills
First order of business was an angry 1/3 of a mile ascent, and it quickly reminded me of the difference between flat and hills. When I got to the top, I regretted taking the long way but had no choice in the matter.
I’m convinced it is situations like this that help you “win” at Ironman. Four miles from home with nothing but pain shooting through your body. I purposely put myself in these spots to remind me how it feels and how to fight through it.
I don’t run aimlessly, I try to move the pain around my body. I force myself to pick up the pace, to push the limits, then settle back into a groove. I can feel my stride getting lazy and clunky, but do everything in my power to find the right form. It’s a battle of will and more times than not, I lose, but it’s the effort that matters.
Five grueling hills later I awkwardly coasted toward my house. My ankles were fried and my hips were stuck. I walked gingerly down the driveway, straight into the backyard, then back-flopped into my pool.
Embracing the Pain
In the end, I’m not sure why I ran a brutal 12 miles today, especially on the heels of a rough 65 mile bike at Natchez Trace on Saturday. I say that, but deep down I know. We want to prove we are on track for our race. Ironman is always lurking and we need to fuel our confidence along the way. We test our progress and push ourselves to the limits to make sure we’re ready for the beast.
I knew I’d be sore and my feet met the ground this morning with that unmistakeable post run agony. Feeling “happy” at that point is difficult. It’s impossible to ignore the swelling as you limp your way into another workweek. You are battered and beaten, but must have faith in the process. The pain is proof of progress and it’s certainly much better than being numb.
