A little miracle...

My run this morning started out as nothing special. It kind of sucked, truth be told. I changed my schedule around today because I noticed that I feel "flat" at work. Probably I overworked myself last week. I thought maybe a lie-in might help. (This is the time that the life of a grad student is very nice indeed.)

I looked outside and saw blue skies. Excitement. I got dressed, ate something and was out the door for a slow and easy 6 miles.

Little achilles pain. Mash the crap out of trigger point.

Little right knee pain. Take it easy. (That's nothing new, and I'm learning to embrace these little aches and pains as badges of honor. They say hello. I say come along for the ride.)

Tired. Not surprising, seeing as I indulged my usually strict self to watch a movie until 11 last night. It feels good to do that every now and then.

Slow. Working on that, but it's:

Humid. Wickedly so, which is making my:

HR very high. Fine. It is what it is. Today will be like an unplanned tempo as the temperature and humidity inch up.

I have a million reasons to quit (okay... maybe 5). But, deep down, I still enjoy what I'm doing.

In the end, it was GYGO podcast that saved me. And, sorry, guys, it wasn't IronWil or Kahuna that inspired this time. In fact, I'd almost call it a miracle.

See, I'm so far behind in podcasts, it's almost like I'm ahead. I've been catching up slowly though, and today, I thought it might help.

Cue Episode 14. It wasn't advertised in the beginning as anything special. It was Easter weekend (see, I'm THAT far behind!!), and they were just winging it. Wil was talking about her hand, forearm and foot fettish (and I was chuckling, because I love a strong man's forearms... and calves, and I can appreciate a nice (clean) foot as well). It was light and funny, and took my mind off of my little complaints.

The heat pressed on. Sweat dripped through and on every part of my body. Down my face. Into my eyes. I had almost completed an entire 24 oz bottle of water in an hour. I still had a mile to go, and I really just wanted to walk. Who would care? Who would know?

And then Wil mentioned someone from blogland I really admire. As soon as she started talking about this "strong woman" I knew exACTLY who it was going to be. I broke in a grin and said, "Sheila!" Sure enough. And then to make it all better, Kahuna read one of her posts (about a run no less). If was the right freaking medicine at exactly the right time.

So, thanks guys! And of course, thanks to Sheila. This life is so funny (especially in this very small context). I don't know. Maybe I see more than I should in small events, but they seem to be so few and far between, it just seems more worthwhile to grasp up what I can. It lifted me up. It took me out of my misery. Had it been another blog, I doubt it would have done the trick.

We never know when or how we will have the chance to touch another life, whether it be in a good or bad, huge or very small way.

For those interested, this is what I heard:

"As always, I am battling the brick demons. I am just running as best I can. I'm not looking at the HRM, as it would be pointless. I'm just trying to get a decent cadence with tiny wittle steps (a la Elmer Fudd). I pull my hat down further over my eyes as the sun is bugging me and so is the wind. I get to the first mile. 8:42. What the fuck is that? I shouldn't be running that fast (remember, I am S-L-O-W). Especially after that hard ride. But really I don't feel all that bad. Just the usual this-fucking-sucks-it's-a-brick-run-why-the-fuck-do-I-do-this-shit bad. So I figure that since I'm into a headwind, and I will always run faster back towards home, what the hell let's do another 7 minutes out and then turn around.

No problem. It does suck just a teensy-weensy less with the little tailwind. I figure I must look like total crap, but then my head registers, "Hey, we don't really feel all that bad maybe we CAN keep a decent run pace up in an Ironman." I guess the more you do this shit that hurts you, the easier it feels. Thanks coach! My threshold for suckiness is much bigger now. I am thinking that few of my friends that I used to train with could keep up with the shit I do now. Or maybe they could. I alternate between feelings of invincibility and total suckitude. This is what keeps me training, I guess.

I start the last mile home, and all I can think is, "MAKE IT FUCKING STOP." No walking, no slowing down now, just run and get it done. In reality, I was also thinking how long could I keep going like this? And I know that with a little Coke or Ultra Violence, a long, long time (I didn't even use the old Ultra Violence today!!!). I was listening to some music on the radio, but seriously I didn't even hear it."