19 and a Wall

You know, I've been hearing that expression about "hitting the wall" for years now. I've never seen anything definitive about what hitting a wall feels like, but I know it's something I never wanted to do. I get why now.

Yesterday I was aiming to do 20-21 miles. It gets old to say it, but it was to be my longest run ever. And Friday night, as I was having dinner with Marisa, I realized things were going to be a little dicey. Dinner was a little less carby than usual... something neither of us quite realized until too late. I wasn't sure how it was going to play out, but I knew it would be interesting. And boy was it.

From the very outset of the run, I could just feel a little less energetic than usual. My first big hill made that apparent. But I was playing this thing out to see where it went, so who knows. I went up and over the Brooklyn Bridge again. (One day I am going to write a How To for tourists so they can walk around in a city without killing themselves or other people. But that day is not today.) So up and over the bridge, around City Hall and back over to Brooklyn. I was running a little slower than usual but things were still on track. I don't really stress about the time anymore... more about how things feel and it was feeling like it was the right pace for now. So all good.

Mile 15 came and I could tell something was really wrong. It felt like I needed to be at the end of the run... I wasn't sure where I was going to find another 5 miles, but I knew I would need to. By Mile 16, I was faced with a big decision. 1 mile away from me was home. I could go that way and end on 17 again. Or, I could turn into the park for the 3 mile loop and do that and then take the mile home and wind up perfectly at 20. It was an agonizing decision as I could feel my body starting to walk. But I turned into the park anyway. I was going to finish thing damn thing. What came next left me utterly sure I knew what hitting the wall was actually like. For all the legend it has in my head that always seemed to lack concrete description, I can sum it up this way.

I know what its like to run with leg cramps. It's a horrible feeling. I had passed leg cramps and clearly any remaining energy and fuel in my muscles was gone. Pressing on, even at a walk, meant these muscles still needed to find something. And in spite of eating calories as I was going, it was just too little too late. If reaching the wall is that moment of muscle cramping, hitting the wall is taking those muscles and physically twisting them to get any last ounces of energy out. It is nothing short of horrifically painful. The muscles in my calves locked up and literally took me off my feet and to the ground. I got back up. My quad muscles were not far behind. I have never had cramping up into my quads and hips before on a run. My shoulders started to feel like I had gotten some TB boosters a few hours earlier. My lower back ached. I tried to run and to be honest, my calves hurt less running, but it didn't last long at all and I was walking in even more pain than before. I can't even put words to how painful that moment is. I wanted to lie down on the side of the road and just sleep. Again, my brain started telling my body to run... honestly, it hurt less to run, but somewhere between really thinking and firing neurons to run and actually running, the message was getting lost. It's a strange feeling when your brain is expecting a run and the rest of you isn't doing it. It's very confusing to say the least. I had 3 miles still to go.

I took a shortcut, which left me shy of a mile, but I knew even walking I wasn't going to make it much more. I had thrown down the last of my shot-blocks just as I turned into the park, so with the one last mile to home, the energy must have made its way to where I needed it because the cramps let up a little and I could walk without shaking or starting to feel like I was about to fall. I made it home with 19 miles and some feet additional. I poured myself into the apartment too weak to get my shoes off. Thank god Marisa was home.

In a lot of ways, I am glad to have had the experience, though it is one I will never hope to repeat. Most people experience the wall during a race. I have the luxury of experiencing it on a training run. I've never been in a position of running far enough to literally squeeze every ounce of energy out of myself before. I've never been in a position where what I ate the night before a training run ever really mattered that critically. I am glad to know that now.

I came in, Marisa helped me to get undressed (I literally could not get my jersey up over my head) and stood in shower to warm up while Marisa made me a bagel with peanut butter and some very concentrated gatorade. I needed the burst of sugar and energy. The difference was huge when that kicked in. It was unbelievable.

I remember several years ago seeing the footage of Julie Moss at the 1982 Ironman in Hawaii. This was the first year that it was being broadcast on ABC TV and one could argue this moment really made triathlon what it is today. At the very end of the marathon, Julie Moss was in the lead. With simply yards to go, her body hit that wall and shut down and as she was passed by her closest female competitor, Julie Moss crawled on her hands and knees to the finish, with TV cameras rolling. While my experience with the wall yesterday is the teeniest portion of that, I feel like I can see in that footage some of what I was feeling yesterday. I can see her brain telling her body to run and nothing happening. I can see that confusion. I don't think I have ever understood what compelled her to try to keep running until yesterday when I realized its more painful not to.

I am lucky. I learned that lesson 3 weeks before my first marathon... not in the throes of it. I call that a blessing.

More later.