I wanted to be on the road at 6:00am yesterday to do 20 miles of training. For some reason, I was especially anxious to get this one done. In other words, I wasn't getting ready with my usual zeal--not to mention that the weather man reported a slight chance of light rain for the next couple of hours.
It rained for the first ten miles. Non-stop.
Honestly, I enjoy running in the rain. Always have. Since I have the pleasure of living near a 40-mile bike trail, often under a canopy of beautiful trees, running in the rain means a reduction of athletic traffic and a calming, quiet run. The moment I left the house the first raindrop hit my forehead, and it didn't let up until I turned around to come back.
But it shouldn't have been that cold this time and I was underdressed in a lightweight shirt and shorts. I just never really felt as comfortable as I would have liked and found myself fussing with all of my gear, checking shoelaces too often, adjusting the tuck of my shirt, trying to get water bottles in and out of my fuel belt. I think dri-fit means that the sweat comes off your body quickly, but the rain comes back through with full force. Bleah. No fun. One of my soccer girls says that I run "slow as a turtle," and I felt that way a good bit of the time. Monotonous. Slow. Cold. Wet.
You know what, though? I finished that run, and I did okay on pace, too. And today I feel like that kind of session--the ones that aren't that fun--end up meaning the most when I look back on my training days leading up to a marathon. I could have quit altogether; I could have taken some breaks. But I didn't. I just kept going.
Side note: I saw a turtle on the trail, Anna, and I was definitely going faster. Really.
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