What does this remind you of?

What does this remind you of?

21 Days into the Train Like a Mother: Finish It Half-Marathon Plan for Adrienne Martini, who will definitely finish the Pittsburgh Half-Marathon, her first.

Lousy runs make for great columns—and the knowledge that “this really will be funny later” is one of my main motivators. Decent runs make for lackluster posts. Week 3, you’ll soon discover, was full of decent runs. (But no need to stop reading!)

I don’t always harsh on the treadmill. It’s great for days that call for an easy three miles plus strides. Ditto an interval Thursday, where there’s a 10 minute warm-up, some speed, and a cool-down. It’s those long runs where the ‘mill and I start to loathe each other.

Actually, I can’t speak for the ‘mill. It seems largely indifferent to my hatred. Why won’t you pay attention to my needs, treadmill? Why?

One of the harder parts of the TLAM Half-Marathon Finish It plan has been the Tuesday longish runs. They range between 5 and 7 miles, depending on how strenuous the weekend’s long run was. The challenge isn’t the runs themselves—although there have been a few not-so-easy moments—but squeezing them in to an already packed work week. Like Week 3, where I had to get up extra early on Tuesday to drop kid #1 off at middle school because it is unreasonable to ask her to walk the half-mile when it’s -8 outside. We believe in the power of walking to and from school, but not in the inconvenience of being frozen to the sidewalk.

By the time I fussed around with her and got myself to the indoor track, I had exactly an hour and 15 minutes to run 6 miles because I had a dentist appointment at 9:30 and a class to teach at 11:30. It became a morning about numbers, really. I run 12-13 minute miles, which means the 75 minutes I had to run six miles in should be enough.

If your'e Adrienne, the correct answer is Nutter Butter.

If your’e Adrienne, the correct answer is Nutter Butter.

But I had to fart around with my shoes for a few minutes because my fingers were too frozen to tie the laces. And because I’d gotten up early, my brain wasn’t awake enough to count laps. Instead, I just set the timer on my iPod and took off. Was it exactly six miles? Who knows?

(I bet the treadmill knows. Jerk.)

For part of that 75 minutes, I shared the track with eight members of our college’s men’s track team. I discovered I could hang with them if I pushed as hard as I could. Then they finished their warm-ups and took off like startled gazelles.

"You better lose yourself in the music, the moment. You own it, you better never let it go...."

“You better lose yourself in the music, the moment. You own it, you better never let it go….”

On Saturday, I tackled what I’ve been calling my Eminem run: 8 miles. It’s farther than I’d ever run before. I spent the early part of the morning in a state of near panic, wondering what on earth I’d been thinking with this whole 13.1 thing. Then I put my shoes on and went.

The first five miles were great and easy, for relative definitions of “easy.” Miles 5.5 through 7 were a struggle, not physically but mentally. It seemed like I’d already been at this for so long and had so long to go. I’d go hours without looking at Herr Garmin only to discover a couple of minutes had passed. It was like that statistics class I had to take in high school, only the run might prove to be more useful in the long (pun intended) run.

Which isn’t to say that statistics class wasn’t useful for some. I’m sure there is a series of equations I could have been using to analyze why the late-middle bit of an extra long run feels so extra, extra long.

I made my eight, though, and learned a few things:

1)  I need a second Gu or Chomp or something at mile 7.

2)  The treads of my shoes look a lot like Nutter Butters.

3)  When I add another mile to the long run my GI system revolts.

(TMI alert: sometimes after a long run and always after a longest-for-me run, I spend a good chunk of private time in the bathroom wondering if my lower intestine could actually explode. I don’t think any specific type of Gu or Chomp that triggers it or related to what I have or haven’t eaten for breakfast, mostly because I’m not terribly consistent with any of that. Anyone have any advice? Please don’t tell me the work-around involves bananas, which are one of the few fruits I loathe.)

She's funny. Until you offer her a banana.

She’s funny. Until you offer her a banana.

Tummy aside, I felt good, if tired, after my run. My step was without much pep for the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday, granted, but I felt OK. On Monday, however, I woke up feeling like I’d been beaten with a sock full of nickels. Maybe I was just dreading my return to the weekly grind? Or maybe the cats were protesting the diet kibble?

It’s as much of a mystery to me, too.

PS: Because I’m such a joiner, I’m now on Strava. I’m still trying to figure out how it works but, please, friend me if you’d like!