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two shirts, four taco bells, twelve miles later.

July 15, 2013

Last Monday I made myself feel like a real runner by doing things that real runners do.

First I started by forgetting to map out a twelve mile course the night before. [Bad start. Not something they do.] Follow that up with crrrawling out of bed sort of early-ish? and calling my dad to ask how I reset the little mile counter in my car so that I can - like a total running genius - drive six miles, park the car, run home, run back the car, and drive home. You see, sometimes real runners use their cars for things like long runs. Mostly I think it's so they don't have to always run the same routes around town? That's what it is for me. All the same sidewalks and all those dumb stoplights that keep you waiting! I don't know that my use this time was completely conventional, but I did it.

And maybe you're thinking, why didn't she just map the run that morning and avoid all use of the car? Because I was tired and because I didn't have a computer. And because didn't I already say this day wasn't completely conventional.

So Jake told me how to reset the counter and I was off toward Springville. If anyone is interested in knowing, Center Street in Springville is exactly six miles from my apartment by way of 9th East and that one road that 9th East turns into and connects Springville and Provo. Ah, State Street.

Heads up though, that road is also more hilly that it may seem and also under a bit of construction at some points..

Okay here is where I start the things real runners do?

I parked my car just off Center Street, but kept my key and iPod with me. I stopped at a gas station to buy a Powerade about three miles in - per Jake's suggestion, advice, requirement - after three big gulps hid the Powerade in some shade, and ran the rest of the way to my apartment. The mountains were so nice to me at first. They blocked the sun the whole time I was still in Springville, but just about when I was officially in Provo again those mountains were useless and I started to melt.

Back at my apartment I changed my shirt and had a drink, then I had to go get my car so even if I wanted to be done after six miles that little Rav would be missing me. I started back out and thought about silly things that maybe only I would think about. Such as, if anyone later told me they had seen me running that morning I would ask where they had seen me and which color shirt I was wearing and it would be easy to figure out which mile I was on when they saw me. And who cares about that? But I thought about it anyway.

Sidebar: I don't like when people tell me they saw me running. I just know they were judging me when they did because obviously that's rational. But you know what I think is silly? Judging anyone you see running. Maybe they're running slowly or have poor form or what-ev-er. But you don't know if this is the first fun of their life or the tenth mile of their run that morning or anything! You don't know anything about them except that right now they are out there trying and so good for them, that's what I say.

You want to hear another funny thing I thought about? About mile eight or nine I was melting along State Street and my iPod started playing "Somebody Told Me" by The Killers. And then I thought, "You're right! Heaven AIN'T close in a place like this." aaand then I laughed at myself because give me a break I was dehydrated and delusional.

Anyway, you know how runners high is a thing? It's such a good, good thing except when I swear for me it never hits until about mile six or seven. Which of course it did the morning of my twelve miles and so I thank the universe that at least it did come. Plus when I ran past my not-very-secret-in-the-slightest hiding place for my Powerade it was still there! And still cold-ish. I had a few more drinks and hid it again, finished the last three or so miles, and juuust about died on the last one. Runners high doesn't last forever, I guess. 

But I made it! I did it. It felt so good. I stretched out in the park, drove home - picked up the powerade - and let myself eat whatever I pleased for the rest of the day.

And yes, I did pass four Taco Bells on that run! Fine, I passed two of them twice. But isn't that some sort of record? 

2 comments :

Lesa Emmett said...Best Blogger Tips[Reply to comment]Best Blogger Templates

I'm so proud of my baby girl! :)

Jake Emmett said...Best Blogger Tips[Reply to comment]Best Blogger Templates

I totally agree with you take on judging runners. I don't care their size, speed, or clothing choice (well, maybe that last one does matter) at least they are outside doing something active! So "Good on ya" is what I say to all runners/walkers/cyclists everywhere.

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