It was brutal.
I’m talking about the wind today during my 19-mile-ish to 20-mile-ish training run.
I don’t know the exact distance because my Garmin gave out so I ran for just over three hours (that’s about what it usually takes me to complete 20 miles), and I called it good.
Plus, I just couldn’t … take it … anymore …
When I lived in New Mexico the Santa Fe Striders hosted an annual run in January called the Corrida de los Locos — literal translation: the “race of the crazy people.”
The gringo translation: it’s time to freeze your tush off.
The 5.8 cross-country race often fell on a day with miserable conditions — cold, sleet, snow, ice, wind — you name it.
While neither sleet nor ice were a nuisance on today’s route, which was along an exposed bluff, other elements were.
A cold wind blasted us the entire way. We also got a hiccup or two of snow, but it never stuck.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say the ghosts of the Corrida de los Locos from my past visited me today. The distance was the equivalent of running three Locos races back to back.
Muy loco indeed.
“Hey MOM, can you turn off the wind machine before we get going?’ my friend, Donna S. from the Distance Divas, shouted to me when we started.
Whew!
She wasn’t kidding.
Just a few miles into the run it felt like we fell into a wind tunnel.
Dang Dorothy, I mean, err — Donna — we’re not in Kansas in anymore, but you could have fooled me!
If I had ruby slippers … err … ruby running shoes to click and take us away I would have used them for Donna S. and all of us.
I swear the wind picked me up a few times and threw me back. As I crested the hills I pushed against it like a football player tackling a sled in practice down the 50-yard line, and I couldn’t move any faster. It was painful.
Luckily another Double D friend, Gayle, ran the full 19-ish to 20-ish with me. It kept me going because every logical part of my brain screamed for me to stop and it took all my willpower not to listen.
Why, you might ask, didn’t I stop?
I have this theory — that if we can conquer hard conditions in training, then race day should be a breeze (pun intended) no matter what gets blown our way (ditto).
Mind games over head winds — I hope it pays off and is true. We’ll see.
I will sleep well tonight and I’m grateful for the shelter of my nice, warm home, out of the wind.
Now repeat after me and grab whatever slippers you have (ruby or not): “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. …”
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Aging is inevitable, but growing old is a choice. Lace up your ruby slippers shoes, and let’s go!
Mileage today: 20 (revised after I confirmed the distance with my Double D friend who ran with me), and a dose of cold and stiffness; Denver to Boston miles logged: 1159.5; Miles left to go: 610.5.
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