I did a dumb, dumb thing
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: Superior: The Inland Sea from the Great Lakes Suite by Dan Gibson
Topic: Marathon
In Pam Houston's Sight Hound, Rae's husband is always making up new lyrics for songs he already knows. If he were here, he would be singing, "Baby did a dumb, dumb thing" to the tune of Chris Isaak's "Baby Did a Bad, Bad Thing." I slept altogether too late today and by the time I had done yoga and got out to do my long run, it was hot. It was my first attempt at a long run with 2 minute run intervals, and, in spite of the heat, I thought I was going to be okay.

My lungs did great! I finally figured out how to get my heart rate monitor working again today and I watched it to see what my max looked like and to make sure I was recovering in a reasonable time on the walk breaks. On uphill runs, I maxed out at 172, mostly because I wouldn't let myself go any higher than that. After I hit it three times, I could tell by the way my body felt--slightly sick to my stomach--when I had reached it, and I would slow down to make sure I didn't exceed it. A long run in the heat isn't a time to push the heart rate.

Fifty-five minutes in, my mind was hating the whole experience. I was convinced that my body wasn't going to feel its usual relief at that point, but I made myself check in with my body anyway. I was amazed to discover that my body actually did seem to have reached the state of adjustment it typically finds several miles into my long sessions. My lungs were doing beautifully and the pain in my left arch seemed to have subsided. My legs felt strong, and I had found my rhythm. My mood started to pick up.

The next two run intervals were mostly downhill, but the third interval was all uphill. I hit 172, started feeling queasy, backed off, and then realized that I was also getting chills. Chills in that kind of heat are not a good thing. I walked another half mile to see if they subsided, but they didn't, and I decided to call it a day even though my heart rate was still recovering relatively quickly. Maybe I'm a wimp or just looking for an excuse to stop, but I couldn't see how heat stroke would benefit me.

No asthma attack when I finished--yay!--but the left arch started absolutely screaming the minute I stopped moving. Hans was worried I had a stress fracture, but finally, now, two hours later I can finally walk on it. When I stopped the run early this morning, I promised myself I would finish the last three miles tonight after the heat has passed. If the foot feels up to it, I will at least try to walk those three miles. And for next Sunday's ten-miler, I have to be up by 5:00 a.m. and out the door.

There are so many variables to try to manage and monitor without a coach....