I sat on a metro train for about 15-20 minutes waiting to leave the station Saturday morning. After four hours of sleep, I didn't have the temperament to deal with being late. I ran across the bridge to the store and found two Jakes, two Pats, another Charles, Henry Dickson and a Matthew, but, as I heard from a text earlier, no Karl. He was on board with my morning workout plan, but his calf issue ended up being exculpatory for me, because I really didn't feel like it anymore. We ran a pleasant, but warm, 10 miles along the Mt. Vernon Trail and Hains Point. Around eight miles, I started to get really insanely thirsty, and shortly after I decided I was not going to run hard anymore. About that time, Ernst decided to start pushing, and I just kind of let things go. I kind of stuck around for another mile, but once we hit the Georgetown waterfront, I just kind of easily jogged it in. I was happy enough to hit 75 miles for the week, and I probably overdid it with water when I got back to the store.
I spent the rest of the day, and Dylan's fifth going-away party that night, hydrating for what I hoped would be a vigorous long run in the morning. I'm remarkably good and drinking water in a social setting. I wish I could do so at work, because I so frequently come home completely dehydrated and need to delay my evening run. I gave myself ample time to get to the Bethesda station Sunday morning to meet Klim, and we joined up with Karl, Marren, Dickson, Murphy and Dylan at The Line. I hadn't run the RCP trails from The Line...well...ever, because the ground was always covered in snow. There was a fine but constant rain pouring down, and I quickly decided on ditching my shirt. It felt a lot like the Pittsburgh Marathon, humid and warm, but not as warm as Pittsburgh. Splashing through mud puddles in a medium-sized pack felt felt reminiscent of college, getting back into the Virginian climate and having people with whom to run.
I was enjoying it and marveled at how fast the first 15 minutes went. I would be able to cover 16 miles with no problem. That is, until three minutes later. All of a sudden, I lost the sharp focus I had on controlling my legs. I got woozy, and when we stopped and hit the bathroom and water fountain, it hit me just how out of it I was. My legs started quivering uncontrollably, and I started to have trouble talking. I wanted to try to push through it, because who the hell falls apart three miles into the run? The rationality of pushing myself beyond what was already untenable was nil, though, so I headed back to the cars, dejected and hoping to salvage something from the trip. After getting back to the cars and having half of the most delicious orange in my entire life, I ran around the adjacent park for a while and back into Rock Creek Park for another 36 minutes, for what I conservatively figure to have been a total of 11.5 miles. Marren was waiting when I got back, so we rapped for a while before Murphy, Klim and I joined Chuck and Towpath to do some more planning for the GRC Father's Day 8k.
So, I'll give my long run another shot on Monday. I'm meeting up with the DC Capital Striders to talk about the GRC race at 6:30, and they run about six miles, so I will run the first 8.4 before meeting up with them, do six with them, then head back to my office for 16. It's not great, but it will do.