Nothing To See Here
I think Mike is trying to kill me.
In what appeared to be an innocent comment on my last post, Mike asked if I was up for a 3 hour jog (no 'funny business' he says). Always thinking the best of people, I agreed to the lazy loop around Boyden Lake.
But no.
The slow pace was deceiving. The old "ow, my hamstring" ploy to put my guard down. And the "let's add this short little road to our loop" to throw off my inner clock. A little later his Garmin beeps and then the big lie:
"There's the two hour mark. Just one hour to go!"
Wow, was I feeling good. This easy pace on a rather humid day wasn't too bad. Two hours, still strong, couldn't be better. We were jogging along at 8:00 per mile next to the shores of the calm Passamaquoddy Bay. One of the few times there wasn't a pleasant sea breeze. The sun was baking and even the presence of a slight wind was dissatisfying as it was intermittent and had a slightly warm tinge.
With the extra road Mike had us take, my water bottle was empty a earlier than usual. The sun was growing hotter, the air more close. The breeze had stopped. Then...
"Oh, I'm sorry... We've only been running for only an hour and a half."
The vultures circled as the temperatures rose. The sun cast laughing shadows off the trees. The road rose and never fell.
The run dragged on.
My full water bottle appeared. I drank it down.
The run dragged on.
Four miles later another water bottle. I drank it down.
The run dragged on.
The lake looked so inviting. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. My shoulders hurt. And the run dragged on.
No ticking except the beating of the heart. No talking except Mike's slurring out the minutes left to go. My thoughts were jumbled. Splits turned my stomach.
At three hours, we hit our watches and Mike muttered, "Not another step." So we didn't. Hands on knees, the spit drooling into the roadside sand. Cars slowing as they gazed at the spectacle. We waved them on like drunken hobos. More water. A Fig Newton.
I don't remember the drive home.
In what appeared to be an innocent comment on my last post, Mike asked if I was up for a 3 hour jog (no 'funny business' he says). Always thinking the best of people, I agreed to the lazy loop around Boyden Lake.
But no.
The slow pace was deceiving. The old "ow, my hamstring" ploy to put my guard down. And the "let's add this short little road to our loop" to throw off my inner clock. A little later his Garmin beeps and then the big lie:
"There's the two hour mark. Just one hour to go!"
Wow, was I feeling good. This easy pace on a rather humid day wasn't too bad. Two hours, still strong, couldn't be better. We were jogging along at 8:00 per mile next to the shores of the calm Passamaquoddy Bay. One of the few times there wasn't a pleasant sea breeze. The sun was baking and even the presence of a slight wind was dissatisfying as it was intermittent and had a slightly warm tinge.
With the extra road Mike had us take, my water bottle was empty a earlier than usual. The sun was growing hotter, the air more close. The breeze had stopped. Then...
"Oh, I'm sorry... We've only been running for only an hour and a half."
The vultures circled as the temperatures rose. The sun cast laughing shadows off the trees. The road rose and never fell.
The run dragged on.
My full water bottle appeared. I drank it down.
The run dragged on.
Four miles later another water bottle. I drank it down.
The run dragged on.
The lake looked so inviting. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. My shoulders hurt. And the run dragged on.
No ticking except the beating of the heart. No talking except Mike's slurring out the minutes left to go. My thoughts were jumbled. Splits turned my stomach.
At three hours, we hit our watches and Mike muttered, "Not another step." So we didn't. Hands on knees, the spit drooling into the roadside sand. Cars slowing as they gazed at the spectacle. We waved them on like drunken hobos. More water. A Fig Newton.
I don't remember the drive home.
posted by Andrew at 8:39 PM
3 Comments:
Wow - 3 hours. If that was me at the 2 hours, opps 1 1/2 hours, I may have lost it.
yikes.
You forgot the 'golden handshake' followed by the big letdown. It was one tough run and I'm glad to have survived. Still recovering...
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