Heat Heat Hills

Last week, Josh and I made a quick mid-week visit to Raleigh, NC for a concert and a visit with my family. We arrived late Tuesday night and left early Thursday but had all day Wednesday to relax and socialize. Of course, one of my first thoughts when I have a day off work is that I am free to workout at whatever time I please. So I slept late, had a leisurely breakfast, used an actual map to map a route with my aunt and uncle, and set out for a four mile run at 10:40 am.

This was my fourth run since the half and I was feeling full of myself. I had my garmin on for the first time since the race and I was ready to go out fast and see some 8:30ish miles on my wrist. But, OMG, the north hills neighborhood of Raleigh, as its name would imply, is hiiiilly. I pushed it at first on all of the uphills but I felt lucky to finish mile 1 in 8:53. Around mile 2, I turned left instead of right and got a little lost. A friendly man in a BMW convertible pointed me in the right direction. But he didn't offer me a ride home.

Those hills felt a lot more beastly than they look on here.

At this point, the going was tough and I was hating life. It was 80 degrees and it felt even worse. How I ran even 2 miles on a 100 degree day last summer is completely beyond me. My legs felt about as sore and heavy as they did on mile ten of the National half. I'm not sure if they're out of shape from so few runs for the past three weeks or if they were overworked from my recent intensity on bikes. They were screaming and I was seeing many 10+ minute miles on my garmin.

I got back to my aunt and uncles street, finally, and turned right in what I thought was the direction of their house. I ran another .32 miles and began walking as soon as I saw the number 4 on my garmin. I kept going and going and eventually reached the end of their street. I had gone the wrong way and was running out of time to shower before our lunch reservation. So I turned and ran.

I finished the run at 4.54 and was very glad to be done. I felt good for having pushed myself but also confused at what was wrong with my legs. Was it the heat? The hills? Are my legs completely out of running shape? Or were they tired from my multiple bike rides in the few days prior? It was frustrating to feel weaker than I think I should be but also enlightening to realize that I don't need to care. Running is hard and the beautiful thing is that, until the fall when I start training for another race, a hard run will do nothing but make me stronger. It doesn't need to stress me out or worry me in the slightest. Because it's only meant to be fun.