Third Time's a Charm?

Yesterday, I ran a 16 miler. Sort of de riguer in marathon training, but I've never made it past 16 miles. I quit training for the Las Vegas marathon a few years ago after a 16 miler. I quit training for the Little Rock full marathon a few weeks ago after an ugly, painful 16 miler.

But last weekend, coming back from Jonesboro uncomfortably full and feeling miserably unexercised, I started looking at the calendar and got a little irritated. I've got a very solid base. I'm signed up for the damn marathon. I've got 4 weekends in front of me. Enough time to do a 16, 18, 20, and a step back run before M-day. I. Could. Do. This.

I'm fairly certain that there were several elements that contributed to how ugly the 16 miler was a few weeks ago. It was cold, windy, and I'm pretty sure I was dehydrated and underfed for a run of that length. Whatever the perfect storm was, it left me feeling very bad about my running in general, and it took watching some of that endurance and tone slip away before I decided to get off my ass and do something about it.

Yesterday, I knocked out the 16 miles in 2 hours, 52 minutes. That's a 10:47 pace, nearly 30 seconds faster for each mile than the one a few weeks ago. It's also about 20 seconds faster per mile than the one I ran 2 years ago. Along with more experience running, I'm sure some of the faster time was J running the second 8 miles with me. Dude's slow jog is a fast pace for me, so there was definitely a bit of motivation to run faster there.  It was also a really nice day, and I actually remembered to EAT along the route. That always helps when you've got nearly 3 straight hours of exercise going on. So better preparation and more focus on not giving myself a chance to fail definitely helped this run.

At the end of the run, I still had a little left in the tank. While good, I'm still intimidated as hell that if it had been M-day, I would have still 10 miles left to run. I was also more than a bit worried (read: petrified) that I wouldn't be able to walk today. That fear, so far, has been unfounded. While tired and achy, I'm actually not painfully sore.  That alone makes me feel a LOT better (please don't hit me tomorrow...please don't hit me tomorrow...).

And and and? On Saturday morning, I played a singles match that turned out to be a slugfest. After an hour and a half, we had played one - ONE - set. The doubles match on the court next to us had played three. That certainly fatigued my legs more than sitting on my ass all day Saturday would have.

So. 16 miles, successfully done. Finally. Next weekend is 18. I think I can ... I think I can ...