After last night's glorious 4 miles, I was very optimistic about today's run. So much so, in fact, that I thought I'd give the old treadmill a shot at redemption. While my preference is always to run outdoors, waking up at 4:30 makes for less than stellar decision making. Rather than running outside in the dark, I opted for the basement and the dreaded machine that lives there...
I started slow figuring that working myself up to top speed would be better than trying to force myself into a faster pace. This theory worked for a short time and I managed my first mile without too much cursing. The next half mile (and forgive me for the over-dramatic tirade that follows) was an excruciating battle between my legs and my brain. If I hadn't been listening to Fergalicious at top volume, I'm pretty sure I would have heard my legs screaming "get the fuck off this thing!" I kept telling myself that I'd managed 4 miles just a few days earlier and that surely I could handle 3 today, but no matter how hard I tried, my head refused to believe that 3 miles was even in the realm of possibility. A mile and a half in and it had taken me 18:20 - a piss-poor excuse of a run as far as I was concerned.
At that point I decided I couldn't take it any more... I needed to run my last mile and a half outdoors. The trouble was that I wanted to let my husband sleep in (he's been staying up late at night to finish his school work) and I had no idea what time my son would wake up (sometimes it's as early as 5 a.m.). I took a chance and ditched the baby monitor on the kitchen counter and figured I'd simply run it as quickly as possible and be back before either was even aware I was gone.
Those first few steps outside were like running on clouds. My feet felt so much lighter and I couldn't imagine how that slight incline built into the treadmill could possibly cause me so much difficulty. I was running as fast as my legs would go and I couldn't tell whether I was trying to hurry back before my son woke up or trying to run as far away from that treadmill as I possibly could. Either way, my last mile and a half took 13:58.
At this point the treadmill is kicking my ass and it's quickly turning into a serious mental game for me. I'll need to learn how to conquer this thing before winter sets in or I'm going to have some serious problems sticking with my training schedule. There's no doubt in my mind that I can handle the distance. Now I just have to find a way to handle that incline.
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