Muttering under my breath, I stepped up to the window to glance outside. Indeed, raindrops were splattering onto the shiny pavement which reflected the glow of the streetlamps. It was barely past 5 in the morning, and I was all psyched up to squeeze in a long slow run.
The past 3 weeks at work were crazy. With so many urgent matters to attend to, even the ad hoc runs were sidelined. It didn't help that the small window of opportunity last weekend was thwarted by unexpected thick haze due to forest fires in the region.
So you can see, I was all set to run. The downpour became more intense as I snacked on my peanut butter sandwich and arranged my running gear. The moment of truth had arrived -- should I carry on, or just call it quits and head back to bed. The runner's itch was so intense, there was no backing out now. I engaged the running prep gears and went to auto-pilot. in rapid succession, I had mixed my gatorade, filled up my hydration pack, waterproofed by cell phone and put on my running attire.
Stepping into the parking lot of my apartment, I was greeted by cold gusts of wind (ok, probably not cold as in "Minnesotan nose-fallin-off cold", but still, unexpectedly cool by tropical standards :P ). For a moment, my runner's will faltered slightly at prospect of being drenched in cold rain right at the start of the run. Fortunately, my Garmin watch rapidly got a satellite fix, and soon I was dashing through the downpour.
It was fun at first, and I actually invested effort into avoiding the huge puddles and streams of water that gushed along the sidewalk. Soon, my feet were soaked, and there was no longer any point in trying to bypass these water obstacles. After 2 minutes, I was completely drenched, and thoroughly enjoying myself :)
Memories flashed back to the Twin Cities Marathon of 2009, when a heavy downpour greeted us marathoners midway through the race. It as really cold and I remember my fingers becoming stiff and pain from the low temperatures. Notwithstanding the drudgery of racing in the rain, it turned out unexpectedly to be my best and most enjoyable marathon to date. Perhaps there is something special about running and rain for me. Some of my most enjoyable training runs have also been in the rain with good friends training together for a race.
I soon settled into a nice running rhythm. One great thing about rain-running is that you have the paths almost completely to yourself, save the handful of other crazies who dared to venture out as well. I spotted one runner doing loops along a sheltered underpass that couldn't have been more than 100 metres in length. He looked miserable and I wondered why he didn't just carry on in the downpour. About 30 minutes in, I saw another marathoner (judging by the number of bottles of isotonic coloured drink he had on his race belt, he had to be a marathoner or ultramarathoner) gleefully out for his run. We bade each other a brief 'good morning' and went on our separate merry ways.
The trail by the waterfront was still dark, and the waves on the bay were higher than usual. With the constant roar of the rain, and the swaying trees by the trail, the moment seemed surreal as I sipped on cold gatorade while continuing to plod along the path, engrossed in my runner's world where everything distilled down to the simple act of putting one foot before another, and then repeating the whole process till I was back where I started.
This year's marathon will be a tougher one for me. The lack of adequate training time has taken a toll. Three weeks ago, at the Newton 30 km run, my drop in conditioning was evident after the 20 km mark when massive cramps set in. Up till then, I was set to complete the distance comfortably under 3 hrs. But the spasms and cramps in both legs and my neck reduced me to a hobbling walking participant for the final 7 km. I felt sorry for myself as I inched along the path, wondering why my legs had failed me. I wasn't short of breath, and there was still plenty of cardiovascular reserve. The issue was plain and simple - my muscles were not as conditioned as before, and without the requisite miles, it was not possible to sustain my desired pace. It was a tough and humbling lesson for me, and a timely reminder that every distance has to be respected. In the end, I clocked 54:17 for the 1st 10k, 52:31 for the 2nd 10k, and 1:14:35 for the last agonising 10 km.
So for today, I did not want to push myself. There were only two aims: 1) To clock more than 30 km, and 2) to come back without cramps :)
As each kilometre rolled by, my spirits lifted as I was finally doing a long overdue LSD run. I focused on simple things like getting adequate hydration, taking my energy gels regularly, and paying attention to my stride. My left-sided plantar fasciitis was acting up after the recent 30 km race, and was still hanging around despite my efforts to treat it -- thus, stride was a special focus for today's run.
My route took me from my home by the river, along the bay front, and finally to the seafront trail where the Newton 30 km run was held 3 weeks earlier. It was wonderful to breach the 20+ km mark without any cramps, near the very spot where I had struggled in the previous race.
As with most out-and-back runs, the return leg of my run felt shorter. By this time, the rain had subsided and more cyclists and runners were out. I remained completely drenched, but pleased that I had squeezed in the miles while many others were still fast asleep or resigned to sit out the rain :P
My 2 litre hydration pack ran dry in the final 2 km, but that was no issue. I felt fine and continued the steady pace along the final stretch, and saved the last burst of energy for the short uphill dash before I called it a day.
Garmin displayed a 33.71 km distance completed in 3 h 40 mins, with an average pace of about 6:30 min/km. This was about 1 min per km slower than last year, but still a very satisfying and enjoyable LSD :)
0 comments:
Post a Comment