suburban running
So I came home today and thought I'd expand my running trail from 2.5 miles to 3 miles. I remembered a route that would get me up around half a mile give or take and decided it wouldn't be necessary to check Google map to confirm.
Big mistake.
Everything is great until I get to Dartmouth Road. I couldn't remember if it was the first right or the second right that would get me back on Naamans. I decided I remembered it was the first right. I'm running...I'm running...and after a while I start to suspect I'm not running the right way. After all, shouldn't the road have turned left already? And I don't remember there being a water tower on Naamans. I kept looking left for some sign of a major road and for some reason the streets would not stop going up hill. I was getting seriously tired but I knew if I stopped my rhythm would be off and I'd be stopping constantly. The last thing I wanted was to walk 2 miles back home. That would take forever. Plus part of me would have felt weak for quitting. Like, "No, Lian. Don't be a fragile external skin sac of sperm ducts. Own your internalized sex organs and finish this fucking run."
So I kept going.
When I finally got onto the main road I already knew where I was. On fucking Ebright Rd about half a mile up from Concord High School. I had inadvertently increased my route by a mile. Resigned to my fate I trekked on, my pace slowing to a snail's crawl and my feet dragging. But then something weird happened.
As I passed Concord, my breathing suddenly got easier. I started running faster. Even though it was still up hill I felt fucking great. I ran the rest of the way back to my house at the same pace I started out three freakin' miles ago with little sign of fatigue. It was like my lungs decided to expand and increase their efficiency just when I needed them the most. Or maybe my liver started breaking down those emergency reserves of glycogen it keeps around in case of emergencies. Or perhaps it was the adrenalin? Who knows. But one minute I'm tired as hell and the next I'm breezing along like I hadn't already run 3 miles, half of which was up hill.
Has anyone else ever had this experience? I found it quite exciting, although I feel like at some point you'd hit the legendary "wall" and where once your body was working with you to make your run easier it would become a useless sac of weight you were dragging around with the utmost agony. I'll have to see what happens when I eventually make it up to 10 miles.
As a side note, how is it that even when I'm running in the opposite direction the roads around here still go up hill? It's like a fucking conspiracy.
Big mistake.
Everything is great until I get to Dartmouth Road. I couldn't remember if it was the first right or the second right that would get me back on Naamans. I decided I remembered it was the first right. I'm running...I'm running...and after a while I start to suspect I'm not running the right way. After all, shouldn't the road have turned left already? And I don't remember there being a water tower on Naamans. I kept looking left for some sign of a major road and for some reason the streets would not stop going up hill. I was getting seriously tired but I knew if I stopped my rhythm would be off and I'd be stopping constantly. The last thing I wanted was to walk 2 miles back home. That would take forever. Plus part of me would have felt weak for quitting. Like, "No, Lian. Don't be a fragile external skin sac of sperm ducts. Own your internalized sex organs and finish this fucking run."
So I kept going.
When I finally got onto the main road I already knew where I was. On fucking Ebright Rd about half a mile up from Concord High School. I had inadvertently increased my route by a mile. Resigned to my fate I trekked on, my pace slowing to a snail's crawl and my feet dragging. But then something weird happened.
As I passed Concord, my breathing suddenly got easier. I started running faster. Even though it was still up hill I felt fucking great. I ran the rest of the way back to my house at the same pace I started out three freakin' miles ago with little sign of fatigue. It was like my lungs decided to expand and increase their efficiency just when I needed them the most. Or maybe my liver started breaking down those emergency reserves of glycogen it keeps around in case of emergencies. Or perhaps it was the adrenalin? Who knows. But one minute I'm tired as hell and the next I'm breezing along like I hadn't already run 3 miles, half of which was up hill.
Has anyone else ever had this experience? I found it quite exciting, although I feel like at some point you'd hit the legendary "wall" and where once your body was working with you to make your run easier it would become a useless sac of weight you were dragging around with the utmost agony. I'll have to see what happens when I eventually make it up to 10 miles.
As a side note, how is it that even when I'm running in the opposite direction the roads around here still go up hill? It's like a fucking conspiracy.