What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger…what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. Repeated that about 500 times yesterday. I knew the morning run was going to hurt. The workout was an all out 10k plus a 2-mile warm up and 2-mile cool down. I hate all out 10ks. Pain absolutely cannot be avoided. Lungs will collapse. Lucky for me, my running partner in crime, Brandon, always will do whatever I have planned. He is the happiest runner I have ever seen. Sometimes, I just look at Brandon in awe and then want to push him in the dirt for being so damn springy. When do I get to feel springy again?
The 10k. For anyone who knows the central park loop, it is a killer. Hilly and rolling. There is about 1.5 miles of flat terrain then it is a little game of ups and downs. The beginning of the run started innocent enough but mentally I knew I had to push it. I did what I could. My legs felt like jelly. I wanted more than anything to ‘turn it on’ though today was simply about hanging in there. Brandon was ready to run sub-6s. I felt a little guilty because I knew he was holding back for me. I told him to go but he stayed to help me finish strong. The last mile we crushed it! We went for it. Sprinted for the finish. Holy Bananas! My body did not enjoy the 10k but mentally, I was thrilled. We did a 6:20 pace. Perfect. I am happy with 6:20s and even happier for cool down time.
The run was tough but not what made me repeat…what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. The next workout of the day was a 55-mile ride with the goal of attacking hills in a crazy lunatic sort of way. I can handle that. Yet suddenly, the tables were turned on me. Mentally, I was ready for a 55-mile bike ride but my little posse decided that the weather was much too nice for just a measly 55-miles. Yes, I could have gone on my own. I could have just stuck with the plan yet the stupid devil on my shoulder said, “Do 90 miles”. 90 miles it is. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?
Oh you cruel 90-miles! My legs boycotted hills. I had to swallow my pride as bikers continually passed me. Taxi PLEASE. I was sad and felt sorry for myself. At our fuel stop, a nap sounded better than eating. It was a long journey. I had one speed and it wasn’t fast. I could barely draft on the flats. Dead legs. The good news is I made it. Hopefully stronger. By the way, I skipped out on my swim. I like bed. I like food.