Pimp My Run

It started early with the discovery at 6 this morning that some dirty dog had stolen the front wheel off of Nellie Bly.* I don't think I would get much of anywhere in the City if I didn't have that bicycle to get me there. Lord knows I don't want to walk. What was sort of weird about the timing of this theft is that it coincides with the appearance of a very nice bright yellow bicycle, an old-ish coaster with a big basket in front, that had been parked unlocked next to mine. It was there for several days, much to my surprise. When I unlocked my bike, I would move the yellow bike aside and then put it back, as if no one would notice that it wasn't chained to the bike rack. I don't know whose bike it was, but this morning it was gone and so as Nellie's front wheel. I remember thinking just yesterday how cool it was that no one had stolen the yellow bike. So much for that.

I got to the park ready to roll and cautiously optimistic. I had been doing mental calisthenics to prepare myself. I had also done a couple of practical things to improve my chances of having a good run. The rubber cuff on the tights I wore at the Brooklyn 1/2 had acted like a tourniquet. Needless to say, cutting off the blood flow in my ankles did not have a salubrious effect. I bought those tights specifically for race day because they have all these groovy pockets on the backside. I asked my neighbor who is studying fashion and has a sewing machine to remove the band, figuring she could do it without compromising the integrity of the fabric. I thanked her with a bag of homemade ginger snaps. I also unlaced my sneakers by a couple of eyelets per the sports podiatrist's suggestion. There may be some other lacing strategies to alleviate pinching the nerves on the top of my feet. I'm going to talk to him on Monday about some stuff I saw on Runner's World.

I was pushing aside doubts about the fit of my right insole, which had been pimped, as previously reported, but had not yet been tested on a long haul. It felt too prominent in my shoe, and the burning sensation I felt on the maiden voyage on Thursday night was a harbinger of unwelcome things to come.

My hope was to run continuously or walk only to catch my breath. There was none of that. I had to stop outright quite a few times; I had no choice and that made it all the more demoralizing. I got through somewhere between 16.5 and 16.75 miles despite almost relentless pain, including cramping, burning and numbness in varying degrees at different times. I guess you could say my pimped run wasn't much of an improvement. Thankfully, the left foot did well. Numb at times, but manageable. It could be that the bridge on the right insole was too bulky or not quite in the correct place. I'll see if it can be adjusted on Monday. Something's got to give.

We could run wherever we wanted to get in the miles, but had to include three laps of the northern loop of Central Park, aka The Great Hill. It's a great one. I remember very well trying to bike it the first time and being shamed by the runners who were flying past me. Now I was a runner with the biker's flying past. I occupied my mind by trying to calculate routes in the park where I could get in about 17 miles and be near a bathroom at strategic moments. I ended up doing almost two loops on the bridle path, which was terrific. I do love the park.

I came to no conclusions about the order of races (full in San Diego, half in Alaska?) because my peace was disturbed by the mental calisthenics required to keep moving forward. I had a couple of tough moments when I really doubted being able to continue. I couldn't take out the insole. I could either hobble back to the bagwatch or keep going. I didn't want to cut this long run short because next weekend is the big 20 miler. I had to force myself to believe I would get through it.

I returned to the bagwatch at Bethesda terrace on a strong note, elated to have run more than 16.5 miles. But my watch and the presence of only a few teammates brought me back down to earth. I heard that the mentors had brought snacks for the team, but there was nothing when I arrived. Not cool. I wish I hadn't heard about it. I think the "back of the packers" deserve to be given the same support and consideration. Am I being too sensitive? I brought my own food--of course. I don't go to the corner store without a lollipop in my pocket, so you can be sure I was well stocked for a post four-hour run feast.

I wimped out on a 10-minute ice bath and decided on a 30-minute bubble bath instead. I'll be feeling the effects of the day's excesses tomorrow, no doubt.

Today: 16.5+
Miles to date: 239.50

* Nellie Bly is my trusty steed, an old German full-size folding bicycle.