I totally wimped out on going running Thursday morning because of the freezing cold, so opted for an evening kickboxing class to help make up for it. I enjoyed it, but came to regret my choice during my regular gym appointment on Friday when our trainer put us through a repetitive series of strength moves—my butt, legs, and arms all registered unhappy complaints about back-to-back taxing workouts.

I felt pretty sore on Saturday, and not particularly ready for my long run— but I really didn't want to wait until Sunday either, because I always worry that if I don't get it over and done with, forces will conspire against me and I won't find the time later in the weekend. Plus, we had a babysitter lined up for Saturday night, and I wanted to completely relax, knowing that Sunday was a rest day.

Once my husband got home from his workout in the afternoon, I got my gear together and drove to nearby Marymoor Park to run on the Sammamish River Trail (which Dawn mentioned in this post). I've been planning to do that trail once my runs got long enough, because it's flat and requires zero route-planning.

I figured I'd go for at least six miles, but I felt strong enough on the way out that I kept past the 3 mile mark. I passed four miles still feeling okay, if increasingly thirsty, and thought oh, what the heck. What's another half a mile?

Perhaps some of you who are smarter than me have figured out the flaw in my thinking. You know, the fact that 4.5 x 2 = NINE.

Around the six-mile mark on the way back I started slowing down, and by seven miles I felt like my legs were dragging through molasses. They didn't hurt, exactly, they just felt more and more leaden and weak. I was really, really thirsty—probably from breathing cold dry air with my mouth open—and I had no water. At one point I saw a drinking fountain and leaped on it, but of course nothing came out. Off for the season, probably, or maybe just frozen.

Mentally this was a very different sort of course to run for me, I'm used to hills and curves in the road and this trail has many long straight stretches where you see exactly how far you need to go just to get to the next straightaway. It was a little disheartening, and I spent a lot of time focused on the pavement in front of me. The other thing that was kind of hard was how the trail was highest in the center, so I felt like I ran the whole time on a slight incline to the right (since I was on the far right of the trail, allowing for cyclists to pass me on the left). It would have been nice to switch up the terrain a little, but I suppose that's what this kind of training is all about.

The last mile and a half was pure torture. At that point the sun—which had been shining on me during the way out and was warm enough to make me regret the extra shirt layer I'd put on—had dipped below the trees and my hands got miserably cold beneath my thin gloves. My right hand in particular became an immobile claw and throbbed so painfully it beat my running-on-empty legs and my dry mouth in terms of total discomfort. I wasn't even hearing anything on my iPod, I was just thinking of this quote from Dean Karnazes: "Run if you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must." I wasn't walking or crawling yet, but I was damn close.

Finally, FINALLY, I got all the way back to my car, where I had (thank god) a water bottle and a Clif bar, and I turned on my seat warmer and just sat on my hands until they worked well enough to grip the steering wheel. I peeled off my watch and double-checked the numbers: just over nine miles. And hour and a half of nonstop running. Holy crap.

Mileage: 9.08

Pace: 10:40

That distance is well ahead of my training schedule, and I realize I shouldn't push it too much. Next time I do this trail, I'll set a goal before my feet hit the pavement, because unlike running around my neighborhood, there's no doubling back early if I need to. I also need to get a fuel belt and start bringing water, and hell, it might be a good idea to try and time my long runs so I'm not doing them on sore, over-worked legs. Oh, and if we get more freezing cold weather, I definitely need some better gloves. 

All in all, this was the hardest run I've done. I was drained and exhausted afterwards, and it wasn't until a few hours later that I started feeling human again. Today, though, a full 24 hours later, I feel sore but awesome. Nine miles! I don't even know what to say that I haven't said a thousand times before, so I'll just say this: I am amazed at what I'm becoming capable of.