Thursday, March 19, 2015

The Long Run

Somewhere in the last two miles, I felt it. A shift. Into new territory yes, we were running farther today than ever before, but it was more than that. An internal transformation had begun. A kind of freedom that comes in the long run.

A few weeks ago I, along with my husband Aaron, finished a 10 mile run. 10 miles. I never thought I would accomplish running such a distance. To some, 10 miles may not seem very far, but when you consider that we could actually run from the school Aaron works at, to our house --the distance of two towns away-- it seems more significant. This signified something in the long run that is more than just a sport, fun, a way to get or keep fit, or even accomplish one's race goals. Running is a way to get somewhere! Or maybe to be nowhere in particular. Perhaps something about running this distance represents becoming independently mobile on some level that heretofore I did not imagine.

The last two miles of the 10 miler were, in truth So. Not. Fun. The 9th mile was all uphill, the last back down that same hill and I learned at least a few things that day. First, that much camber on the side of the road makes my foot and ankle very unhappy. To make matters worse, this hill was covered in variegated sharp poky rocks which hurt our feet. I had on Vibrams, but it hurt like nobody's business. I do not know how Aaron managed to go it barefoot! But we survived, mainly because that hill was the way back to our car, so we had no choice but to return by that route. The second grain of knowledge I acquired was that having only 8 oz of water per person on a 10 mile run is a less than stellar idea. We got tired those last couple miles for sure, and it was more of an effort to keep going. But I do think this also relates to running the rocky hill, see above. Note to self: next time bring more to drink. This did lead to stashing a gallon of water in the trunk of our van, for future emergency.

We finished the 10 miler and thought we might die, as we staggered back to the car, as walking was way more painful than running at that point. Only to find that it seemed we had lost the car key, which we so cleverly brought with us in the zip pocket of my running pants. This. The epitome of why I insisted on finding pants with a zip pocket, and then this happens? My oh-so-clever zip pocket was in fact, unzipped. Seems some brilliant person forgot to zip said pocket as we began our run. Since they were my pants, I'll admit it. It was (probably) me. We were soooo thirsty and starving, (ala the lesson-learned, above-mentioned 8 oz water apiece during the entire run)  and the only water was IN our car, we were stuck OUTSIDE our car, miles from a place to buy food or drink. The key was LOST and we were screwed. In a cloud of growing panic, we realized we had no choice but to retrace our steps for possibly THE ENTIRE 10 MILE ROUTE to search for the keys, or else call AAA and wait at least an hour to have them arrive and jimmy the lock and we would then have to get a new car key, adding salt to this fuel-deprived fire. As fate or the gods were smiling that day, we found the key about 40 feet away, but not before a few choice words were uttered. It might have been me who said something like "we're going to die!" Ever so luckily for us, the key was lying in the grass at the edge of the parking lot where our run had begun.

This led to us vowing to get another one of those doohickeys (we used to have one) for a spare key that you attach to a hidden part of your car. We have yet to acquire a new one, however. Lesson three: Zip.The.Pocket.

There was another thing to be learned on this long run. If you are going to run in uncharted areas, bring fuel, and also bring money to buy water or other fluids/fuel at random gas stations and food selling edifices along the way. AND make sure there is at least one such place close enough to run to during our planned route. We did end up bringing the money, (which thank goodness did NOT fall out of the aforementioned wicked pocket) but we did not realize it was so far to a place to refuel. To get there we would have had to continue past 10 miles on the rocky road, we would have had a few extra miles walk back to the car, which I think would have led to hobbling, and a very painful type of unplanned half marathon, don't you agree?

A few weeks later, I was sitting in the car at sunset after a long walk, a day when I'll admit it, I scrapped a scheduled short run. Parked two towns away from home, when I realized it had grown dark. I had stupidly got sucked into an inspiring book on nutrition (which is not bad in itself, but read on) and had been reading with the dome lights on. When it was time to go home, the car wouldn't start. Oy. As if that wasn't enough, Aaron wasn't answering my calls or texts, and suddenly I could not get any cell reception. Which is weird because I have not have had trouble with reception anywhere in that town before. Of course.

Once again, though, luck was with me, because after many fruitless attempts at calling home and AAA, crossing the street to try to get a signal (no dice) and wandering up and down the block like an idiot, a nice woman was walking her dog past me and I managed to ask if she had a phone. She had an accent I didn't recognize, and I told her my situation. She kindly invited me to her friends house that she was on her way back to right then. Which happened to be the house my van was parked in front. Her friend let me borrow her cell, (same carrier as me but somehow she had reception?) and I after a few failed attempts got in touch with AAA. She invited me in and offered me water, but this time I had the keys to my car with its emergency stash of water (see lesson two from the long run), so I waited outside. Once again, I was starving, it was way past dinnertime, and I was very tired. They told me it could be up to an hour before help arrived, but suddenly I got a text saying they were 5 minutes away! I was saved. They must carry turbo-power car charging devices in those trucks, because the clamps were on for maybe 10 seconds and my engine was good to go! Huzzah!

Lessons learned: do not read with lights or battery on in car after sunset. Especially do not park in car two towns away, when it's been hours since last meal. Maybe keep a food stash of energy bars and such in trunk, along with that emergency water.

When all was said and done, and I made it home to a late, brilliantly cooked dinner a deux by my dear husband, and the kids asleep -- wait, maybe I should reconsider that going out at sunset thing? I was too tired to eat much, but realized something else.  Something that running more than 10 miles had taught me. I could get places on my own two feet. From where I was parked, it was only about 8 miles to home. Worst case, if I hadn't been able to reach triple A or husband, and barring the kindness of local strangers, I realized that I now have another mode of transportation that for most of my life eluded me. For this, and other reasons, the long run grants us a kind of freedom. For a future lesson in mobility, I could have run it.