ow.

When I started running back in January it was purely a metaphorical exercise. Now, however, there is a purpose to it other than self-flagellation for self-flagellation's sake. I am running to prove something or some things to myself and to those who know me. But although I'm not really sure what all these things are, one thing was proven today: running hurts.

I know I said I was going to just wing it and not pay any attention to any formal advice and all but I've since determined that this line of thinking was just plain idiotic. I've become a devotee of MarathonRookie.com and I'm trying to follow their training schedule, more or less. The Houston Marathon organization sends out an email update periodically and this last one had a link to a bunch of great information on training regimens, injury avoidance, hydration, nutrition, even advice on one's mental state during the race. It is becoming abundantly clear to me that, unless I want to be a crippled, bitter, failure come race day, I need to start listening to those in the know.

Speaking of crippled, today's run was 14 miles, which is a really, really long distance, by the way. The pain started about mile 8, first in my thighs, then settling into the center of my butt muscles which really don't have a lot of extra room for things like great, jagged blocks of pain. It was relentless and disheartening and as I winced across my imaginary finish line, I thought, "gee, only 12.2 more miles to go". Continuing on for that distance was a laughable notion. Luckily, I have 13 more weeks to whip myself into shape. Self-flagellation, indeed.

Interesting Smell o' the Day: the jetties out at Marina del Rey are a dead ringer for a men's room that hasn't been cleaned in a few months.



Runs for the week:
Tuesday - 4.5 miles, 35:48 (including the 4th st. steps)
Wednesday - 6.2 miles, 51:42
Friday - 4.5 miles, 35:59 (including the 4th st. steps)
Sunday - 14 miles, 2:04:08

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