19 in the heat

I suppose it can't all be good news now can it?

I knew it was going to be hot this Sunday, so I planned accordingly.  Saturday night I made 4, 10 oz. bottles of Nuun strawberry lemonade, and got all my clothes ready for Sunday's run.  I drank lots of water (even more than my normal gallon a day), and went to bed nice and early, about 9 pm.

I woke up with the birds at about 4:30, got laced up and threw on a pot of coffee.  I ate my normal Sunday breakfast (a couple of Quaker soft baked bars), drank half a cup of black coffee, metered out my GU doses (for miles 4,8,12, and 16), made a quick bathroom break, and headed out the door at 5:00 to beat the heat.

This week has been rough going for some reason.  My normal long distance time of ~10:50/mile has been slowed down to about 11:30, even if I push to go faster it just hasn't happened.  Sunday's run started off even slower.  I planned to go that same ~11:30 to keep the heat/humidity from being too much of a factor, but my feet just didn't want to listen.  The best I could muster was about 11:45, no matter how hard I felt like I was pushing.

I decided about 2 miles in that I wasn't going to try and push at all, I was just going to let my pace dictate itself to me.  I figure my body knows what it wants to do.  The next 8 miles or so were fine.  I went through a good amount of fluid, ate my chomps at the prescribed mileage, and generally was having a good run.  Not  a great run, but a good run.

Right around mile 10 I became aware of my hydration situation.  I simply did not have enough to do 19 miles at my current rate of consumption.  I tried to meter out what I had left, but at mile 12 when I heeded nature's call there was no mistaking that I was dehydrated.  My route at that mileage is not really near my house, so I decided to keep plugging along, go a little slower, and be careful with the fluids I had remaining.  At mile 15 (a full mile before I was 'supposed to'), I ate the last helping of chomps to try and give myself the energy to just keep moving.  A few times I noticed that my feet were barely leaving the pavement, and the act of lifting my legs was much harder than it should ever be.

I thought about things I've read, "your legs aren't giving up, your head is" and the like.  I also thought about the dangers of dehydration and running in the heat.  I kept having this internal dialog with myself.  Calling myself a weakling, a coward, an idiot.  I finally gave in to myself just before mile 17, and stopped moving.  I hung my head in disgust.  In running you only have to beat yourself, and I failed.  I called my wife to let her know I was on my way, and walked the last mile home.

I know that I made the right decision, that doing this much in the heat was too much too soon for my still fledgling running self.  I still HATE that I gave up.  It makes me angry, it makes me sad, it makes me wonder if 26.2 is even possible?

I will try for 19 again this coming Sunday, but I'm going to make some changes.  I'm going to come up with a route that swings by my house around mile 12-14, so that I can restock on water if I need to.  I'm going to push for that ~10:50 time, because my body just moves better at that pace.  I need to use my brain to force my body to do what I need it to do.  I'll do 19 even if I have to walk some of it, and move on from there.  I have to get better at this, backwards is just not an option.