Earthmovers and Sandcastles

Horrible snow. Yes, I know I’ve written previously about how it’s fun to run in the snow, but today I’m feeling the other side of the pendulum: it’s hard to run in the snow. Sometimes. Like today.

I did eleven miles out there, and I felt every foot of it. I never reached the “running nirvana” stage, where the body takes over and the mind relaxes and unwinds; no, I needed my mind to instruct my body for every step, or else the body was going to mutiny and it would have been disaster and madness. After the first six miles, when the early-gathering runners in the club met back at the starting point with the bulk of the members, I wasn’t even positive I had the rest of the run in me. It took every ounce of my willpower to start off again for a second loop, even knowing it would be a shorter one. Midway through that loop, my brain was screaming at my legs to keep moving, like a spittle-spraying, crimson-faced Gunnery Sergeant Hartman. “And the way I see it, ladies, you owe me for ONE JELLY DOUGHNUT! NOW, GET DOWN ON YOUR FACES!”

Maybe it was the snow – which, I might add, is still freaking falling out there. Maybe it was the ice, which made me pull on the YakTrax and pay attention to every step. Maybe it was the freezing wind, gusting and blowing the snow directly into my face and eyes. Maybe it was a combination of it all, or maybe it was something stupid, like not being hydrated enough. All I know is that I ran that run with my head more than my body, and it stunk.

I’ve heard it said that in a marathon, you run the first ten miles with your head, the second ten with your legs, and the last 6.2 with your heart. For me, I can see the first two segments being flip-flopped, since when I get tired, I need my brain more than ever. Boy, though, is it easier to run with my legs than my head. How is it for you?

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