I had this great post all ready to go but something else came up. I wanted to keep to the treadmill this week because it’s safe and predictable–something I really need during race week. Speaking of safe and predictable, I made sure that starting today, Andrew and I stay away from vegetables, spicy shit, things we don’t usually eat, you know, stuff that would mess up our digestive systems. I learned the hard way during colonoscopy prep that food stays in our bodies a lot longer than we think. Just because you see in your poo what you ate three hours prior doesn’t mean that there aren’t remnants of that cheese and broccoli quiche you murdered a week ago. So plain carbs it is and so it will stay until three hours and fifty-nine minutes after the start of that motherfucker on Sunday morning! I am SO EXCITED.
The treadmill. I wanted to stick with it but something happened inside of me today and it wasn’t just the quiche. It was passion. It was desire. And they told me to bust out of here and rip into the streets for my ten miler and twist the heads off of every civilian I passed. I ended up doing six 400m repeats at 5K race pace or less (6:07 min/miles with my fastest interval at 5:55 min/mile).
In the end though? It’s not this stupid 5K that I’m most excited for, no. It’s Andrew’s marathon. Because five weeks ago he was on deck for a 3:45 marathon, but after pneumonia and a busted up back? Honestly? It’s sketch. It’s fucking sketch. But this man has spirit and I know from having had lined up beside some serious crazy ass motherfuckers at the start of ultramarathons that the human spirit is hard to break. You can train like a Type-A and shit the bed on race day, or you can shit the bed in your training and then hit it out of the park when it matters. The only variable is the strength of your will, your spirit, and it’s usually measured by the amount of tattooed real estate you’ve got on your body. It’s kinda true. It really is. I don’t know if I have any ultra runners that read my bullshit but if they do, if they are right now, they’re nodding. There is more ink at the start of an ultra than there is during a Harley Davidson parade.
Long distance runners look so cute in their tiny little shorts, don’t they? Their svelte bodies sashaying around in their annoying skinny jeans. Right? How sweet. How cute. But come race day, their super human strength busts through it all and they eat NFL players for a post-race recovery snack. Protein, yo.
We leave at 5:30 am on Friday morning, and on Monday we will come back as sub-4 hour marathoners.
Have you ever run an ultra marathon? What’s up with the tattoos? Is it because we’re all divorced angry people with serious emotional issues? LOLOL!
Tell me how you feel right now. Let it out. LET IT OUT.
This question is for Lisa, because she’s my most sensible, mature reader, I think. That’s okay to say, right? Lisa, or anyone else who feels sensible and mature right now, which foods do you stay away from on the days leading up to race day?
Lisa is a saucy minx. Don’t even let her fool you. <3 I adore her. She’s been so loyal for so long. When I had zero readers and zero commenters, she would show up here day in and day out and give me props.