This is where things get tough

Last week was the worst week of training I've encountered thus far.

There were cramps and exhaustion and heat and humidity and it wasn't pretty. It began Sunday with the already daunting task of having to run 16km, but Mother Nature wasn't helping matters with a weather forecast of heat and humid with thunderstorms thrown in for good measure. I awoke earlier than the previous Sunday (I can not begin to express how much of a morning person I am NOT and how I can't believe that I rise on a weekend morning earlier than I do to go to work on weekdays. And I'm not getting up for something good - not food or a cute guy or an awesome vacation - its to run. To run obscene distances. In hotter and hotter weather) and headed out at 8:08 a.m. The humidity was hard to miss. A third of the way in I was covered in sweat and forcing myself to ration my water. At 8km I had to talk myself into keeping the course and not heading home. At 10k I knew I couldn't do it. The heat and humidity was too much. I was exhausted and dehydrated. Defeated, I headed home where I went up to my apartment, wiped away the sweat, grabbed the Gatorade and headed back out to do two more - one shy of what I was supposed to do.

If someone had told me five months ago that I would return home from a 13 km run, covered in sweat, my dri-wick clothing soaked and then head back out for more I would have told them they were CRAZY. Because that behaviour right there was beyond belief for me a few months ago.

I know people do amazing feats everyday. People run marathons, people swim across great lakes, people climb mountains. They push themselves in ways I can't even imagine. But I have never felt such exhaustion, such fatigue, such a powerful urge to quit as I did last Sunday. And despite running 15k of a 16k run I felt like I'd failed. For the first time since I began training I'd failed. And the crap runs continued All. Week. Long. If I was ever going to give up on this silly half-marathon training it would have been last week, but I didn't. I learned a few things and I came back and woke up earlier, ran further and enjoyed the accomplishment that much more.

This morning I left the house at 7:15 a.m. and ran for one hour, 53 and a half minutes. I covered 16km - my goal. It wasn't fast and I walked far more than I would have liked, but I did it. I pushed myself mentally and physically and I did it. I hope today's accomplishment sets the tone for a better week than last. A week that is not mired by exhaustion three kilometres into a 5k morning run or a feeling of nauseau, fainting and cramps all at the same time while doing hills. But even if it is, it's OK. I will try again. I will come back more determined the next day.

Six weeks to go!