Tuesday Workout: 6 treadmill miles
Well, it seems those elusive 7 miles weren't meant to be. Not for a semi-lack of trying, however. I guess I spoiled the ending in my workout thingamajig up top, but yesterday my Yaktrax broke. Yaktrax plural. I managed to break them both. At two separate times. I just hope that isn't some sick metaphor for my 2012 (it isn't).
I took the wench for a walk in the morning and was greeted by ridiculous roads. This did not bode well for running outside.
It looks like snow BUT IT'S NOT. Pure ice, baby.
I figured it was time to use a free gym pass, even if that meant running 7 miles on a treadmill. I was all set to go and was already talking myself out of cutting the run short when Bailey caught wind of the fact that I was leaving without her. She was not pleased. This dog should teach a class on optimism. When she wants something, she pretends it's happening and makes the human feel too bad not to do it. At least, that's what happened yesterday. I pulled on some layers and we made the long drive to the Coastal Trail.
Roughly a mile and a half into the run, one of my li'l Yaktrax broke. Fuck. The front of my shoe was exposed, but it seemed to be reasonably secure on the rest of my foot so I kept going.
This works, right?!
I made it another quarter mile or so when I realized I was being a damn fool. It was slippery as hell out and I had been having difficulty even with the extra traction. Time to turn around. The soundness of my life choices was confirmed when, less than a mile later, my other Yaktrax (Yaktrak?) broke. I think it had something to do with the fact that I was running on a thin layer of ice and broke through it each step, exposing the Yaktrax rubber to sharp ice. Or something.
In the end, maybe it was a good thing they broke (but not really; that's $20 down the drain!). Since I had been planning to run at the gym, I left much later than I otherwise would have. While we are fortunate to be gaining daylight these days, it still gets dark around 3:30, so considering I didn't have a light source, starting a seven-mile run at 2:30 was a dumb idea. I imagine that for many, an hour is plenty of time to run seven miles. Not this gal, and not when she's got a mutt slowing her down every step of the way. Once I hit three miles, I walked the rest of the way to my car, arriving without much time to spare.
Pretty but dark
Way to suck, guys!
So anyway, fast forward to today when I didn't have any Yaktrax to run with. I decided it was time: I was going to run at the gym. Just the thought made me panic. I did once run 15 miles on a treadmill, I reasoned with myself; this would be more than twice as easy! Chill out, Jeano! But no, I was wrong. Dead wrong. Turns out gyms are universally hot as fuck during the winter (why, why, why?!?!?! People working out are STILL going to get hot, even during the winter!!!!) and since I was done with fiscal cliff talk, the TVs weren't doing it for me. I stared at a wall. It was brutal. I started burping up booze (happy new year!) and peanut butter sandwich 15 minutes in, and since I can't tolerate running at a slow, even pace
on a treadmill, I was doing intervals. Sound life choices what? I am proud to say I made it 6 miles, but I ultimately failed to hit 7. Whatever. Quitting early on the first run of the year is totally a good omen. I'm conserving energy for the other 364 days. Happy 2013, kids.