Last summer I was thinking I'd sign up for the fall half-marathon in my town, but the solo long runs did me in. It was so hot and miserable, even when I left early. I managed the 7-mile run, but I just.could.not.do that 8-mile run. And then I was behind in my training plan (not to mention unwilling to run outside in the summer heat ever again as long as I lived), so...I wound up bailing on the half-marathon idea.
This summer I've already blogged about how much easier it is to suffer with a group than to suffer alone. The effects are spilling over into my solo runs as well. I was dreading the 6-mile run I needed to do at my parents' house, but I didn't want to get behind. The 7-mile run I had to do on the treadmill last week was not what you'd call fun, but I knew my groupmates were slogging it out in the heat and so I just kept trudging. Today I had to be at church for an early meeting, so for the third week in a row I couldn't do the scheduled long run with the group. But I could do a piece of it with them, at least.
I left my house at 6:20 and ran 2 miles south followed by almost 4 miles north, meeting up with the training group just as they were getting started. The coordinator saw me at the water fountain. "Jamie!" she said. "How many miles have you run already? Come and have some of our water." As I was knocking back nice cold water from their cooler, I said a quick hello to my groupmates. Just that quick taste of friendly human contact sent me speeding southward. (Well, "speeding" is relative.) I didn't want to stick around while they were doing their warmups, but the fastest group caught up with me (and passed me!) about two-thirds of a mile from home. This sounds a little hokey, but that quick glimpse of them kept me running the rest of the way. I was positively cheerful when I waltzed in my back door.
It is a little nutty to run 8 miles on a Midwestern August morning. It's much more pleasant to be collectively nutty than to be individually nutty.
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