More beer now

The last couple of longs Sunday runs have been disastrous for me. In both instances I went out too fast and fell apart at the end. This is not optimal because a) you end up having a garbage run on your hands and b) you come away from it feeling depressed and not capable of running a marathon.

The reason that I've gone out too fast is because the group that I normally run with has disintegrated. My pace leader doesn't run in the summer clinic and some of the other guys have gotten faster and moved up to the 8 minute mile group and so I just gradually drifted over there as well. And 8 minute miles are fine, if I'm only running 10 or 12 of them. I fall apart if I try to maintain that pace too long (though I managed to hang onto it Boston, go figure).

Anyways. We were scheduled for a 21 miler today and I had (as I like to do) worked myself into a state of panic about it. What if I have a bad run again? If I didn't have a good run today then surely it meant I am not marathon ready. And also? Why the fack do we have to run up Dempsey hill?

I promised myself and Michael (who is still recovering and was doing an abbreviated run) that I would go out with a slower group (8:45 - 9 minute miles), pace myself and then pull away for the last quarter with all the extra energy that I should, theoretically, have.

We start out and I immediately start chatting with someone while running 8:15s. After half an hour I bid him a fond farewell and dropped back, waiting for another group to overtake me. I trotted along the seawall in Ambleside for a while, looking back over my shoulder, feeling lonely and... slow and so I just went on ahead. A group of 3 guys passed me and so I started tailing them but they were only doing the half marathon route, and encouraged me to join them to their turnaround point which worked wonderfully because I would've gotten lost without them. We stopped at the first aid station and then they went on and I waited again for another group. No go. Fine. Alone again I head out towards Lynn Valley. I spot a guy in the distance and run over to him, chat about how it's his first marathon and again it was good I met him because he prevented me from making a wrong turn somewhere (I get lost turning corners).

See? Look at me! All not getting lost and meeting people and stuff.

He was a little slower than what I wanted to go so I pulled ahead and tried to tackle the monstrous ascent that I thought was a joke at first and which reduced me to walking (I later met the pace leader that thought the route up and I snorted "so it was you!"). The next pace group caught me at the second aid station and so I ran 8:45s with them for a while and met some more people and ate some gels and drank some fluids and picked the jube jubes out of my teeth with my tongue as a deluge drenched us and then we were in the trails.

When I finally figured out where I was I decided to pull away. Or run away, if you will. Run away! And I did. I booked it down the trail, back under the Lionsgate and to the coffee shop where we had all started from and I felt great. Thank the gods of New Balance and Cliff Shots and whatever was in that cistern that I drew my water from (steroids? growth hormones? opiates? who cares??) because I came in strong and with a smile and I felt like I could've run a marathon today. Phew!

Cause I just booked my ferry reservation and registered for one.