Ed: Time to face the heat...and got my rear handed to me

I've been putting this off, but, like ripping off a bandaid--it was time to just do it.

I know that part of the Champaign-to-Peoria run involves running in oppressive heat. Or at least an expectation of it. So I decided today was the day to increase my distance, and at the same time, run during the hottest part of the day. It was in the low 90's this afternoon, just perfect to see where I am in terms of preparedness for what I'll be facing in less than three weeks.

I also decided to mix it up a bit, and leave the familiar confines of my little neighborhood street run. That decision would have unintended consequences later.

So for this run, instead of heading due west, I would instead turn south. Our neighborhood, as is custom for the midwest, is boxed cleanly in a one square mile area, bounded conveniently by four major intersections each one mile apart. Within that square mile are all the multitudes of streets, drives, courts, and walking paths that make a pleasant place to live.

It also makes a great place to plan runs that ensure this particular home-body doesn't stray too far from the cave. In fact, I've taken GoogleEarth and tracked out a circuitous run within the upper left corner of our square mile of where we live, and it totals up to a 5K run. GoogleEarth tells me that I am never farther than .47 miles from my home (or 440.69 Smoots* if you're into that sort of measurement).

So...back to the run. I head south, knowing this was scary uncharted waters for me. I've pre-plotted the distance and know that my run will be just shy of three miles. It's an unfamiliar path to the southern border of our square mile. I don't know what my time references are--in my usual route I know where I should be by looking at my watch (or vice-versa). But I certainly won't have that comfort on the relay to Peoria either.

Right on schedule, about two minutes into my run, my legs start to complain a bit--but as I've mentioned this is just background stuff. I just ignore it. My pace is...well...I don't know what my pace is. I looked at my watch, and it's been six minutes of running--but that is meaningless without context (I noted that in my usual route, I would be turning north at that point). I have an older iPhone that simply gives up and quits if I dare to challenge the GPS to keep accurate record for time and distance.

So, I plod on, silently pacing my steps: St. Jude, St. Jude, St. Jude.

Finally I hit the southern border, and turn west. The heat is now starting to take a bit of a toll on me. I'm still OK, but I feel like it would not take much convincing for me to simply just start walking. I actually toy with the idea, but dismiss it. At least based on simple geometry, I know how far this part of the run is to the western edge. I make the turn to the north, and now note it is exactly one mile until I hit the northern border. Based on my normal pacing, that should be 12 minutes away. I also know that before I actually get to the northern border, I will re-connect with my familiar route where I make my turn to the north.

I find myself looking forward to reconnecting back to my old route--but I unwittingly set up a failure as a result.

With the afternoon sun, and my northerly course, it's getting pretty warm on the left side of my body. I really am sensing the onset of fatigue--something I've been unfamiliar with in my training. I've been careful not to push too hard--but this is crunch time. The run is less than three weeks away so I have to push harder now. Heat, distance, and running harder is a recipe for some serious body aches.

As I work my way north, I finally see the road I normally run west on. I mentally reconnect myself to that point, and visualize what is ahead. The grocery store, bank, fast food place, church, barking dog, then home. For my run, I planned on completing it in 33 minutes--that would ensure that I am minimally maintaining a 12-minute per mile pace. I won't set records with that--I used to be able to run it in seven, but that was 86 pounds and 40 years ago (yikes!).

But it will do.

I assess my stamina, my energy, my complaining legs, the heat--and judge the remaining part of the run--I'm good. I don't have much in the way of reserves left...but I can do this. As I near my familiar land mark, or so I thought, I realized with some sort of runner's horror that I mentally peaked too early. That was NOT my corner. This is what I meant earlier about setting myself up for a failure.

Well where was I? Surely it cant' be far. Next block up maybe? There's a jog in the sidewalk, and bushes block my view, so I am unsure of exactly how far I have to go. As I finally get a clear shot of the distant traffic light, I realized that I was well short of my planned reconnect to my old route. I still had maybe a quarter-mile to go until I got back on familiar territory. I kept plodding on...St. Jude, St. Jude, St. Jude. Finally I was back on my old route again--there's the defunct office building, and the signage for the grocery store not much further past that.

But here's where the familiarity did me in. I had peaked mentally too early. I was now exhausted and was starting to experience some side pain. I'd been running for about 28 minutes without stopping at this point, I did not want to create any issues that would carry into tomorrow.

I reluctantly stopped running, and started walking. I walked for about 2 or 3 minutes, then picked up the pace again--only to have to stop once more because of the side pain. At least that stupid barking dog wasn't there to see me walking (truth be told, I sorta missed that wretched creature). The second walk allowed me sufficient recovery to run the remainder home, but I failed to run the entire extended route non-stop in the heat.

OK. So I got my butt handed to me today. Tomorrow is another training day for me, and I'll get back out there again and have another go at it. I'm still far closer to being ready than I think Kathleen is thinking, but I'm getting there!

I'll be ready to participate in that relay of 110 miles, or if you prefer, 104,023.95 Smoots.



*A Smoot is equal to one Oliver Smoot's height in 1958--or more accurately 5' 7" If you really want to expand your horizon about why there's even a Smoot unit of measure on GoogleEarth, you can find out about it in a Wikipedia article.

Tonight's video is about 5-yr old Ellen Taylor