Ten from hell

There are bad runs, and then there are bad runs. Last night was the latter. I decided to replace the 8 MP on the schedule for an easy 16, get it out of the way this week. I felt like running.

As I said months ago, the wild card for training hard in the summer would be the heat; and wouldn’t you know, South Florida is in the midst of one of the worst heat waves in decades. Mornings, nights, the humidity and temperature produce a “real feel” heat index of over 100. During the day, it spikes to 110. Weathermen are advising to make sure you hydrate well if walking to your car. It’s ridiculous.

So I head out to run16 miles, at about 7 pm. Real-free 100+. But I'm well hydrated, carrying Gatorade. First couple miles were okay but by three, things started failing. By six, I'm toast. As bad as the end of any marathon, shuffling, cannot breath, feeling dyhdrated, utterly spent. Sometimes I stop to suck oxygen from the moist air every 100 yards. Six miles and I'm in serious trouble. I cut off the run and make it home by 10, unable to talk by then and tell Lorraine I'm near death.

After 7 hours sleep, I still haven't recovered. The residual effect of that run has left me dizzy and fatigued and generally beat up. Shuffling in last night, all I could think about was never doing that again. Fuck the whole marathoning thing. It got me home.

I was set up for a bad run, though, having run or cross-trained for 10 of the last 11 days. When I recover from this, I'll probably head back to the treadmill, which isn't getting my legs rugged enough for a marathon. But this kind of heat can't be run through, not by me. It's just too much, and too dangerous. This morning, I actually feel lucky I didn't get in more trouble than just feeling bad.