Afternoon Delight

So clearly I’m an end-of-day person.

I missed my run yesterday, due to some stupid weather thing. I don’t know exactly what it was; something about lightning, damaging winds and a silly flash flood. I wanted to try it, because it seems so hard core to run during the rain. But even I cannot rationalize a workout when there are bolts of electricity flying about, and so I came home, feeling flabbier already.

I made up the workout today. Even though I’d missed just a day, and even though I’ll still get 3 full runs in this week, it was so odd to me not to run on a Tuesday that I was twitchy all night and downright cantankerous this morning. I’ve yet to experience the Runner’s High, and yet I seem fully capable of the Runner’s DTs when I don’t go shuffling through the wilderness. Yippee.

And I hindered myself further by opting to wear a skirt and heels today. Heels are bad news for runners, and since I was on my toes all morning, my calves ache now, and since I had to wear those shoes again all afternoon, I’m a little shaky in the shins. Seriously, what moron wears heels when she’s going to run midday? This moron, apparently.

I needed to do it: I had a big meeting with all the VPs, and I wanted to look as smart and professional as possible. So I wore my back-pleated skirt and my patent-leather heels. They looked great, and I got all those ‘oh, you must be an executive’ looks all day. I haven’t worn heels in a while, and it was nice, nice, nice to see my reflection in those business clothes. But still, I suffered. Luckily (???) I suffered enough that I won’t repeat the error. But tonight I’m all hobbly and it’s my own vain fault.

Since the meeting was at the end of the day and I knew I couldn’t work out after hours, I made the plans to run at lunch. I picked a new spot-a forest preserve near the office and with a trail long enough to accommodate my full run.

Within 100 yards, I wanted to collapse. It was pretty mild today, but I was running in fields vs. forests and the sun was right on my face. Plus, since Howard was not with me and I wanted to stay hydrated, I ran with my 1-liter water bottle in my hand. Big mistake. A 2-pound weight is probably manageable if it fit in my hand, but in the Jumbo Plastic Container size, it’s akin to carrying a sloshing bunny in your fist.

The run got easier, and eventually my bottle drained far enough that my hand stopped cramping. I hit the western branch of the DuPage river, complete with a little dam and a strip of blacktop that was springy and straight. I took off a little bit down the stretch, and even though I had to stop at the end to figure out which of the 4 paths was the trail, I felt good and the break was only a few seconds. I turned around when the path hit the street, ran the whole thing back, and then lost 5 full minutes looking for the top half of the trail.

The map shows it as continuous, but it is, in fact, broken up by a parking lot, a picnic area, two stinky outhouses, and a kiosk. I was off the trail so long that my bladder won the war and I had to duck into the outhouse, holding my heaving breath while my shaking legs held me up over the hole. My god, I didn’t know they still made outhouses. This is Chicago, right? I mean, there is the river Right There. Anyway, after the pit stop, I found the trail behind a ‘no vehicles’ sign and set off, grateful for the canopy of trees.

About 3 minutes in, the path narrowed and then disappeared. The path was wide and the grass was flattened, but still, it’s uneven ground. It was weird at first, but I got used to it faster than I expected, and then it was really nice to trot through the woods, with trees overhead and grass underfoot. I picked up my pace again, and I noticed that I met and passed my usual 4-mile collapse. I was so intent on keeping my feet from turning inside out that I missed the mark that would have told me to melt into hysterical exhaustion. I have to say, it was refreshing to finish a run without having first screamed in rage or melted into sobs or both. Score One for a Distracting Path.

I ran almost the whole thing, and my stops (apart from a trip into aforementioned outhouse) were just a few seconds. At the end, I was tired, but I felt good. I did just a pinch over 6 miles at just under 9 minutes per mile. A little faster than usual, and feeling a little better than normal.

So maybe I need to acknowledge that while I can ‘run’ 6 miles or more in a session, I’m not seasoned enough to run the whole thing without a break. In taking these tiny (3-5 second) stops to drink water, check my directions or double back when I found out I was off the path and in someone’s back yard, I recovered enough to keep myself intact with good form all the way through. Fancy that: listening to your body and having a good outcome. Well, I guess it’s okay to do now, since my body is no longer telling me that if I eat a stash of Hostess fruit pies before I get home, that the calories don’t count.

Anyway, I think that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to stop declaring my workout a Total Waste of *&#^%! Time when I am forced to walk for a bit. I didn’t even get the heavy legs that I’ve been getting lately. And it could have been anything-the water, the temperature, the hour….but I think it was just me, trusting and listening for once.

Results not typical. Don’t expect me to continue this without a zillion interruptions and backtracks. I mean, it’s me after all.

But I think if I could really convince myself to run when I felt like it and stop when I needed to, I could probably jump to 7 miles per workout: maybe even this week. Something to consider, especially if I can also do it a little bit faster. Right now, edging 1 hour per workout, it’s really just a little bit too long to do the whole thing over lunch.

But I don’t think that’s really relevant, since I didn’t much care for the run. I liked the preserve, I am glad that my run got logged before I put in 9 full hours at the office, and I really liked running on the grass. I had a whole Mother Nature Woman thing going on. It felt natural, and while my knees are a little sore tonight, it feels muscular, which means I worked something new and that is good.

Still, I didn’t like the rushed feeling I had, I wasn’t too keen on stripping in the basement bathroom at work, and tonight after dinner, I was jonesing for a run, as if my brain had forgotten the miles logged over lunch. I can see doing this in an Emergency Session, like today, when I’m already down a workout for the week and there’s no way to make it up at night. I’d rather run at noon that skip, and so it’s there for me if I want it. I felt safe at the preserve, and it’s nice to be discovering my city all over again, this time at odd hours and with wildflowers at my feet.

But I'm an afternoon gal. I can’t do what Howard does and crawl from bed at 5am, or wait until DS has gone down to go strolling through Wheaton in my sneakers. Whatever trade I must make, my run comes after work. It’s my transition time-the notice to my brain that work is over, and that my family awaits me at the end of the trail. I like that way better than squeezing my workout in between meetings. I don’t want it squeezed—I want it stretched and oozed out over the bridge of my day. I have my work, I have my nights, and now, I have my afternoon delights.

A the A(fter-Nooner)