Saturday I took off on a long run. I first ran down into Crosby Park to hit the trails. They were in terrible shape due to a bit of a thaw and refreeze situation. It was like running through an ice rink. I pulled the plug on the trail run after about 3 miles and cruised up the hill and out of the park to dry ground choosing instead to follow the river paths. I zoned out after a while and wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going and found myself in Longfellow Park. Longfellow is located in Minneapolis. That much I knew, but I wasn’t really sure how to get back home. I just kept running. At mile 18 I ran across the Franklin Bridge and headed on a known route home. Soon after that, I ran out of water. I hadn’t really planned on running over 20 miles so had only brought a belt with 24 ounces of water mixed with tailwind and one gel. I was at least 10 miles from home and the fountains were still off for the winter. I was hallucinating about cheeseburgers and my legs were tired. I pulled over and called my hubby.
“WHERE ARE YOU, I’M TIRED AND FAR AWAY FROM HOME!” as if it was his fault that I misrouted.
The answer wasn’t helpful. Hubby was over a half hour away and still had something to do before he could come to where I was. I told him to look along the river and that I’d continue moving forward until he arrived to rescue me.
I continued on, running slowly in the direction towards home with images of cheeseburgers and beer dancing in front of my eyes. Mile 22 hit and I pulled over again and phoned hubby “WHERE ARE YOU NOW?!” I didn’t like the answer and continued on.
My phone rang at mile 25 and there he was. I was about a mile and a half from home. I climbed gingerly over a barrier and into the limovan, slumped into the seat and declared “I’M TIRED”
The run started out in the best spirits. I felt fantastic…happy…good. My legs were full of energy and my mood was excellent. Usually when I get lost I look at it as bonus miles. Saturday was less fun. I was so hungry and tired and my mood dipped into the tank and I really wanted a cheeseburger. Looking back, this was great training. A small piece of me feels guilty that I called for a ride and a bigger piece of me wonders why I didn’t get a cheeseburger when I was done running.