Water Under the Singing Fat Lady

Monday workout: 7 miles, 11:52, Pace Gloves

Tuesday workout: 9 miles with 3 x 2 miles (intervals were supposed to be 9:34 but I ran them much too fast, around 9:05, I think), Pace Gloves

Wednesday workout: rest

Thursday workout: 12 miles with 10 tempo (9:34), Pace Gloves

Friday workout: 6 miles, 10:52 average, Pace Gloves

Saturday workout: 6 miles on the treadmill, 12:00 average, socks, weekly treadmill treat: the last episode of Game of Thrones second season (SO PUMPED FOR TONIGHT'S EPISODE. I've read all the books so there won't be any surprises, but there is some seriously epic shit coming before this season ends)

Sunday workout: 16 miles, 10:25 average, Connects

I guess we might as well throw Monday in there again and call it a weekly recap.

Total: 56 miles, new weekly mileage PR

Guys, I'm tired. So incredibly tired. So tired that I didn't have the energy to do more than work and run all week, and so tired that I have no pictures for you today because I haven't had any energy to take any.

This week kicked my ass. I managed to do all my runs as prescribed, but I was not happy about it. There was a lot of finger-shaking. Finger-shaking is serious business. Never mind the fact that I was finger-shaking at the Hansons and you can't effectively finger-shake at someone who isn't there. But finger-shake I did. It didn't really make me feel any better, though.

This week was also the first week that I experienced any self-doubt about my upcoming marathon. On a theoretical level, I understand that I'm doing nearly all of my runs on pretty tired legs, which means the level of effort required to complete a workout isn't reflective of my "rested abilities." But on an "Oh my god, I'm running a marathon in 3 weeks" level, it freaks me out that my 16-miler today felt so hard. Or my 12-miler on Thursday. I don't know that I could have taken even one more step after either of those runs. That inevitably begs the question: "How the f@*# am I going to run x more come race day?" 

[Side note: I have a serious knack for getting idioms wrong (theoretical example: "It's too late now, hombre; that's water under the singing fat lady"), so I often look them up before using them. It seems the English speaking world has been using "beg the question" wrong for quite some time now, myself included. Whoops. But I refuse to stop using it in that context because I think it's a great phrase. Okay, back to more serious things]

I expect this is a very common feeling amongst novice (and, to a certain extent, experienced) runners. There's no way to know what you're capable of until you do it. This is where I'm supposed to tell myself to "trust my training" and "let marathon day magic do its thing" (by which I assume people mean "carry me effortlessly across the finish line in world record time"). Rational Jeano knows I've put in the work and am going to do great on race day, whether that means achieving my time goal or just making it to the finish in one piece. Or maybe ditching the race 15 miles in to go down an entire pizza and some beer. But that doesn't mean psychopath Jeano doesn't occasionally rear her hysterical head.

The great news is that today was my last 16-miler. I do believe this is as hard as it's going to get. I would say I've got a taper to look forward to, but the Hansons are pretty stingy when it comes to tapering. We're talking 8 days of mild tapering. But we can talk about that in another post.

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I'd like to take a moment to thank all the poor worms that gave their lives today in service of my long run. It was a massacre out there. Worm carcasses everywhere (it was raining pretty heavily so they were all up in my road space). I tried to console myself by telling myself that cars had probably run over all of them already. RIP little guys.

I also saw a mama bear and cubs, but I was too tired to really work up any enthusiasm for them. I think I would have been more excited had I been in a car, or even anywhere near safety.

I hope everyone had a great weekend!