bon·kers adj \ˈbäŋ-kərz, ˈbȯŋ-\
: crazy, mad
At the start of the word bonkers, though, is the word BONK. Which is what this blog post is about. An epic bonk that happened about 10 miles into my 17-miler on Sunday.
To say that Sunday was windy would be like saying that the Sahara is warm. Or that Lady Gaga is a little eccentric. But wind or no wind, I had 17 miles on my calendar, so I had to suck it up, bundle up, and go to it.
With two pairs of pants, two hats, a heavy shirt under a thermal running jacket, ski gloves, smartwool socks, and my ninja mask, I was prepared to brave the elements, and the first 7 or so miles were great. I was fighting tooth and nail against the wind, while slowly climbing my way out to Newton from Coolidge Corner, but I felt fresh and strong. And I must have repeated about 50 times in my head "this is going to be a hell of a tailwind when I turn around!" The power of positive thinking.
I defeated all the Newton Hills on the way out, got to the Firehouse, and when I went to take the left I was greeted by a sidewalk caked in ice as far as the eye could see, and a road too narrow for me to run in the street. So I turned around and decided to make up the distance in Brookline/Boston.
Up the first hill I went, cursing under my breath at how much I hate it. Far more than the others. I chugged along, cranked my music, and kept going. Hill #2. Not pleasant, but not tough. Done. Then I got to hill three and partway up I ran out of steam. I walked a little, cursed a little, then picked back up and ran. Yuck. Took another Gu and kept going. Then I hit heartbreak and told myself slow and steady would win the race. I got up the first half of it but as I started chugging up the second half I hit a wall. No gas left in the tank. I walked a little, then finally just sat on the curb. I drank some, I took off my hats, I breathed deeply and tried to pretend the other runners passing by didn't see what just happened. After a minute or two I pulled myself together and did the jog/walk thing all the way back to Brookline, and it was getting colder and windier with each step. The hills were pretty sheltered.
I think I might have over-heated a little once I was on the hills and out of the wind. I also think that after months of training on the river for a mostly flat marathon, doing an out-and-back on the Newton Hills was more than my body bargained for. Vic thinks I burned more calories than I realized because I was running into the wind, and probably needed to fuel more than I did. Noah pointed out that I was tired and feeling a little off when I left to start my run.
I know every runner has been through this at least once, so it's nothing to worry about. But with 6 weeks until Paris, I'm not feeling so confident. I hope to have a good race in Hyannis this weekend (half marathon) and build some of it back up.
: crazy, mad
At the start of the word bonkers, though, is the word BONK. Which is what this blog post is about. An epic bonk that happened about 10 miles into my 17-miler on Sunday.
To say that Sunday was windy would be like saying that the Sahara is warm. Or that Lady Gaga is a little eccentric. But wind or no wind, I had 17 miles on my calendar, so I had to suck it up, bundle up, and go to it.
With two pairs of pants, two hats, a heavy shirt under a thermal running jacket, ski gloves, smartwool socks, and my ninja mask, I was prepared to brave the elements, and the first 7 or so miles were great. I was fighting tooth and nail against the wind, while slowly climbing my way out to Newton from Coolidge Corner, but I felt fresh and strong. And I must have repeated about 50 times in my head "this is going to be a hell of a tailwind when I turn around!" The power of positive thinking.
I defeated all the Newton Hills on the way out, got to the Firehouse, and when I went to take the left I was greeted by a sidewalk caked in ice as far as the eye could see, and a road too narrow for me to run in the street. So I turned around and decided to make up the distance in Brookline/Boston.
Up the first hill I went, cursing under my breath at how much I hate it. Far more than the others. I chugged along, cranked my music, and kept going. Hill #2. Not pleasant, but not tough. Done. Then I got to hill three and partway up I ran out of steam. I walked a little, cursed a little, then picked back up and ran. Yuck. Took another Gu and kept going. Then I hit heartbreak and told myself slow and steady would win the race. I got up the first half of it but as I started chugging up the second half I hit a wall. No gas left in the tank. I walked a little, then finally just sat on the curb. I drank some, I took off my hats, I breathed deeply and tried to pretend the other runners passing by didn't see what just happened. After a minute or two I pulled myself together and did the jog/walk thing all the way back to Brookline, and it was getting colder and windier with each step. The hills were pretty sheltered.
I think I might have over-heated a little once I was on the hills and out of the wind. I also think that after months of training on the river for a mostly flat marathon, doing an out-and-back on the Newton Hills was more than my body bargained for. Vic thinks I burned more calories than I realized because I was running into the wind, and probably needed to fuel more than I did. Noah pointed out that I was tired and feeling a little off when I left to start my run.
I know every runner has been through this at least once, so it's nothing to worry about. But with 6 weeks until Paris, I'm not feeling so confident. I hope to have a good race in Hyannis this weekend (half marathon) and build some of it back up.
