On Weary Legs: 16-Miler

     Fall asleep.  Please, fall asleep!  As if my pleas would somehow help.  It's something something A.M. and I'm trying to rest before I run 16 miles Saturday morning.  5:00 A.M., I think I dozed off for half an hour.  It's not enough, and I have guests to pick up at the airport later this morning which doesn't give me time to run anymore.  No run today.  I try to sleep.  5:30 and I'm still wide awake.  That's it!  I have to get my miles in today or it'll never happen.  It's probably not the best idea to head out without any sleep and hungry, but I'm not sleeping anyways.

    

     It takes only 15 minutes for things to go wrong.  My stomach starts getting that not so comfortable feeling that can only be aided by a visit to a well ventilated restroom.  10 minutes later I make it to the first bathroom along the Lakefront Trail.  Locked.  Doesn't the park service know of runners' needs at 6 A.M.?!  I press forward hoping the feeling will subside.  No such luck, but I make it to the next facilities and find relief.  

     I'm back on the run and assuming a respectable rhythm.  The plan is to run 8 out then 8 back.  At 5 miles out, my hunger begins to affect me.  My stomach deprived of food has taken to digesting itself.  A few snacks I've brought along only help to stave off the starving pain until a little after the 8 mile turnaround when one problem gives way to another.  Incredible fatigue from a lack of sleep and increasing temperature starts weighing me down, and I'm wishing I had become a member one of the many running groups out training this morning if only so I could partake of some of their Gatorade their coordinators have set up along the trail.  I make frequent stops at water fountains, but I'm losing more fluids and electrolytes from sweat than a few sips of water can replace.

     My quadriceps tighten up, so I stop to stretch permitting my legs to sluggishly take me to 13.1 miles followed by a Gatorade station put up by Fleet Feet Chicago which saves me.  If there was ever a runner's wall, I was approaching it fast with every step.  I'm wishing I could hit that wall so I could quit.  I'm hoping each runner that passes me will knock me over and let me lay there motionless for just a little while.  I should stop and get a ride home.  I should stop.  Stop.  Please, stop.

     I keep going at whatever pace I can still muster.  I keep going despite the emptiness in my stomach and the pain in my legs.  I keep going, because I've already come too far to stop now.  I keep going.  My Garmin beeps telling me I can stop.  It ain't pretty, but 16 miles are done.

     Next week, 18 miles.  Bring it!