I thought I could pull off a 12athon run without too much trouble. I thought I could mosey out to Umstead and run my favorite hilly trail at an easy-breezy, leisurely pace after the previous hard training sessions. As usual, I thought wrong.
I should have known this wasn't going to work when I woke up achy and tired that morning, but I'm too stubborn to listen to my own body (who's in charge here, anyway?!).
My body said "Do Not Run Today".
My brain said "Screw you meat! I'm in charge! We're running! Gray matter for the win!!!!"
My body responded "Sigh... Ever heard of learning from your past mistakes?"
My brain said "Ooooh, look! New posts on Facebook!"
So it was that lunchtime saw me in Umstead heading out for a 12+ mile run. It started poorly and got worse from there. My legs felt dead. My heartrate was too high, even at very slow paces. Nothing was working. But I endeavored to persevere. I'm in charge. Move it meat!
|The first thing you pass on this route is|
a graveyard. Foreshadowing anyone?
About 2 miles into the run, I realized I had worn one too many shirts. I decided to ditch a shirt by hiding it in some leaves. I would pick it up on my way back.
|No one will ever find it here. And that|
|Even the warning cone couldn't stand upright on this hill.|
|My legs felt just like this...|
When I ran the Umstead Marathon last year, I bonked hard in the hills around mile 17 or so. I know the exact spot where that bonk grabbed hold of my body, because I actually stopped and sat down on the stump of a tree. I look at that stump every time I run by it in order to remind myself why I run these hills.
|The Umstead Memorial Bonk Stump|
Guess where I ended up on this run?
The 12athon is truly bonkers.