Oh Everest, My Everest

No moping today! I just ran 18 miles and I feel like having a good ol' victory bar fight as soon as I finish icing my knees. (Too bad I know better than that.) That was a damn good run. I'm feeling violent in the good way!

I used a number of mental tricks on myself today, but the most effective during the clinch was ramping up the speed in the last mile and thinking about how embarrassing it would be to give up so close to the end in front of so many Marines. I thought of mister-man running the 5+ mile endurance course this last week with his load-bearing vest and a pack and rifle. The Marine Corps, being the Marine Corps, planned for the E course to end with an obstacle you have to hurl yourself over... atop the final hill...

...where everyone is watching you.

Gee, this sounds a lot like the marathon course, whose elevation map (just recently released) looked pretty brutal, involving running PAST the finish only to come back around to it a second time... managing to be uphill both ways. 10 miles of hills, relatively flat course, and then 1.2 miles of utter torture. Not to mention that this is in front of probably the largest concentration of spectators. You know, the Marine Corps being the Marine Corps. Sometimes I stare at that elevation map just to meditate on it bit. Without fail, I end my meditation by saying to myself, "Yep, this route was definitely planned by a Marine."

Anyway, I tried to sing the Marines' Hymn in my head as I started running hard. I mixed up the verses a whole bunch and ended up running out of song before the mile was up, but then I imagined mister-man running up from behind all weighed down like a mule and completely schooling me in that last half mile. I almost started crying because my mental image was too real and I was *so* close to giving up on my dreams and even life itself. But before I knew it, my Garmin bleeped at me and made the 18 miles official. Of course it was almost another quarter mile to the parking lot so I kept going and even sped up a bit because I felt SO DAMN GOOD to be done.

I remember turning my left ankle on a rock somewhere in the last half mile but I didn't notice until I was stretching and my left ankle was too tender for me to balance on that leg so I could stretch my right quads. Already feels mostly better, though I'll have to ice it a bit and not do anything stupid to it. I'm just glad it wasn't like The Great Sprain of April, which took me out of commission for a loooong while. That would be pretty devastating at this stage of the game.

Wait, why am I even talking about that shit? I effectively dodged the bullet, and I just ran 18 miles! Fuck everything else! Time for ice packs and a victory nap.

Labels: ankle, caffeine, canal towpath, long run, shot blocks, violent urges