Pace: 8:21
Wine consumption: None (my liver needs a break after Chicago)
Temperature at start: 87 degrees. Yes. In October.
Complaints per mile: 17
I am reluctant to give up boxing, particularly after not boxing while traveling all last week. My solution is to keep going to my 6:30 am boxing class and then do my speed and tempo workouts at night. This worked out beautifully on Monday. I had taken Sunday off from cardio (did some weights) and Monday was relatively cool. Daughter #1 had soccer practice in the grassy center of a track, so I logged 6 x 800 meters at a 7:00 pace. Never in a million years did I believe I could run that fast. Holy crap! Given my good luck, I decided to shift Wednesday's tempo run to Wednesday night so I could still go to boxing in the morning. Big mistake.
On Wednesday morning, I explained my plan to my trainer, Pinch Your Butt (a reference to proper gluteal engagement and not goosing). He told me that if I continued to double up, I would hurt myself. So the story that follows may be psychosomatic, but I don't think so. Husband #1 had a training appointment with PYB after work on Wednesday, so I planned to run 5 miles when he got home. The high was 97 degrees. Ugh. Even though the weather is not typical October weather, the sun still sets at an October-typical early hour, so I couldn't push my run too late in the hopes of cooler temperatures. I started at around 6:45 pm and it was 87 degrees. The air felt damp and hot. I'd been riding a little high on paces I never expected from myself. Well, that ego boost was undone last night. I struggled mightily to maintain an 8:30 pace for the first mile. My calves hurt, my ankles hurt, my shirt was riding up and my running skirt was riding down. I couldn't breathe. And I still had 4 miles to go. Ugh.
(This was me running on Wednesday night. Inside my head, anyway. That diaper may have been more comfortable than my running skirt.)
I was wearing a neon yellow shirt, which made me vaguely afraid that I was a huge visible target to unsavory individuals. I initially questioned whether I should wear something dark to hide from murderers at the expense of being less visible to cars. After being nearly hit by cars 3 times and chased by no ax murderers, I can say that bright yellow was the better option. I managed to heave myself through the last 4 miles, at no point experiencing anything close to endorphins or a runner's high. I returned home hot and panting and stiffening up already. Thanks to the heat and sweating, I also had a huge blister on the bottom of my big toe and chafing in, um, sensitive areas. After a quick shower, I spent 10 minutes rolling out various leg muscles, which was painful (do you hear that, Pinch Your Butt??? I'm rolling!).
This little SOB looks innocent, but inflicts so much more pain than you ever thought something made of foam could possibly inflict! Also, IT bands: why do I need them?
I limped off to bed for restorative sleep. Sleep was not restorative enough. It took me approximately 3 minutes of Pirate's kickboxing class this morning to realize I was not up for it today. I pushed through anyway, but it hurt. I was slow and grumpy, both very uncharacteristic for me when there is a heavy bag to hit. At one point, Jack Rabbit told me to stop friggin' complaining already. Realizing I'd been a negative Nellie, I told her I'd shut my mouth and that she could hit me if I complained again (I clarified that random bursts of profanity are not complaints). To my credit, she only got to hit me once, and the "complaint" was debatable (I was merely pointing out that class has run past the allotted time).
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