Week 38-39: #Runrise #Runfies and #Runger attacks

So I just lost another 2 weeks of my life.

I have never been so unaware of time.

Hours, days and weeks are falling away and I find myself becoming overcome with surprise when I am met with another Friday, marking yet another nearly complete week of training.

After our last insanely cold long run, Rhi and I both were a little nervous about the upcoming 15kms we were supposed to cover.

I have never been so up to date with the weather forecast!

We had decided we would run the beach again, but with some advise from Rhi’s physio, we decided to start at Henley Beach and run South, with assurance that we would be able to run without getting lost in the dunes. Again.

All week we watched the forecast, praying the weather gods would be kinder to us on Sunday morning, and yet, as I was making my way down to the beach, I was met with an overcast sky and drizzling rain the entire way south.

I hadn’t worn my marino wool long sleeve as the temperature was supposed to be reasonable, and decided after a quick warm up that regardless of the chilly sea breeze, I would probably be alright.

We also realised that our 7.5km turnaround point would also take us all the way down to Glenelg.

We are literally covering several suburbs on our long runs now.

10mins in and the sun came out. What?

And within seconds, our sweat was sweating.

A good portion of the trail was situated between the sand-dunes and the city, with no shade and no wind.

In comparison with our newly accustomed chilly winter weather, the heat was suddenly uninvited and unforgiving.

Hot sun combined with a trail providing only one water fountain also meant we were met with a relentless thirst.

It is safe to say that even though we were hot and thirsty, and had to dodge several swarms of small children and numerous gaggles of rich housewives in never-sweated-in sweats, we made it.

That run was the first that I encountered mid-run #runger, so Rhi and I agreed we would take carb snacks with us for our next run.

Our next run the following weekend would take us from Mawson Lakes to Paralowie.

We followed the Dry Creek trail north onto the Little Para River Trail and back to complete our 18km long run. Eighteen fucking kilometers.

I am still in complete shock and awe at the enormity of that distance.

My body however is currently still doing its best to assure me it felt every goddamn step.

We broke up the run to make the distance physically and psychologically more bearable: three lots of 6km segments. These segments would give us a chance to stop, have a drink and something to eat and a little bit of a stretch before we continue.

The first 6km was a breeze. Really, at this point something would have to be fundamentally wrong if it wasn’t!

Not only did I feel great, but we started running right as the sun starting rising over the Adelaide hills, which added to the beauty of the morning.

The next 6km would take us right past Rhis Ma and Pa which turned out to be pretty fucking convenient as another promising water fountain rich trail turned out to be barren. Excellent.

After a quick pit stop we headed back the way we came and tackled our last 6km.

The last segment of our run which I would also like to call Purgatory.

We did so well overall but that last segment wanted to eat all coherent thought and steal everything we had worked so hard for.

I couldn’t find my happy place. I couldn’t tune out. I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything to discuss to pass the time and I was painfully lucid throughout the entire distance.

Every thing hurt. I suddenly struggled to breathe. The sun was too bright. My clothes too heavy. The air not fucking oxygenated enough. Come on!

It took everything I had to keep moving over those last 6kms and once we were done, that experience has made me more proud of my progress than anything else, because we were READY.

3 weeks to go!

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