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When it was still dark outside, still a long way from getting light, I got up and put on my tights, my light running pants, and my gore tex shell pants.  I put on an athletic top, two long sleeved polypropelene tops, a fleece pullover, and a shell.  I put on two pairs of socks and my shoes.  Hat, scarf, gloves.  Housemate suited up alongside me.  I wore a light backpack with a bandana, a couple of granola bottles, a water bottle, and our Stabilicer ice cleats.  And we set out for our last training walk of this winter. 

It was freezing cold.  Well below freezing, actually -- somewhere in the mid teens.  Very windy.  Our walk was an 11 mile route, out and back, that we did twice.  The path winds along the water, against the unblocked frigid winds, then winds through the streets of town, over a bridge into South Portland, and out, into the wind again, to a lighthouse on the other side of the harbor.  The walking surface varied from dry concrete (the rarest), to concrete sidewalks covered with black ice (the worst) to snowdrifts of four to six inches, to a three-quarter inch flat layer of snow (perhaps the most common, along with the snowdrifts) to brick sidewalks covered in melting slush, salt, dirt, ice, and water, to streets covered in slush and water.  Each of these surfaces has a different feel on your foot and takes different muscles to keep you balanced and to propel you forward.  The slush and the snowdrifts and the snow surface (and the snow covering black ice -- very perilous) all mean your stride slides backwards and you have to work harder to go less far. 

So anyway, we trudged along for five and a half hours, in the icy wind.  The thermometer on the big city building read 17 degrees.  Our pedometer tells us we went 22.4 miles and took 40,914 steps.  My whole body is tired.  My face is ruddy red, with that glowy feeling of internal heat that comes as I thaw out.  My legs are aching -- the hip flexors, in particular, are complaining.  And my feet hurt.  Oddly, my left shoulder aches a little bit too.  I might have held my head funny to keep scarf over my face against the bitter wind.

We talked of many things on the first 11 miles, but got into kind of a walking trance on the second.  Our diminished brain function continues to surprise me -- not sure why it should.  On the first 11 miles we talked about a friend's work dilemma, about whether people have a "setpoint" for happiness similar to the body's setpoint for weight, around which we fluctuate but tend to return to.  We talked about fiction and our reading patterns.  On the second 11 miles we talked mostly about our feet and the walking surface.  We had a long discussion about Cheetos, and cheese puffs, and cheese curls, and speculated about the differences between them and the manufacturing process involved.  We invented a game that seemed extraordinarily compelling, called "What Would You Rather Eat?" where one of us would present the other with a choice, say, between a tuna fish sandwich on three-seeded wheat bread with lettuce and tomato or a serving of warm shepard's pie, or between two Twinkies and a Slim Jim, or a pickled egg and three black licorice sticks.  We played that game for the last five miles.   Then, on the drive home, we stopped at a convenience store and got each of us our own bag of Cheetos. 

After we'd gone maybe seventeen miles we were on a small walking path next to an estuary with lots of ducks.  The ducks were across the path and had recently been fed.  There was an older woman with a plastic bag on her knees, holding on to the front fender of a car.  We saw her and asked if she was alright.  "Well, actually, no," she told us.  "I can't seem to get up."  We got on each side of her and helped her up.  She said, "I have no strength in my legs."  We gave her back her cane, which had fallen aside, and her purse, and made sure she was okay before continuing our trudge.  For a while, it gave us some energy.  We may be tired as heck, but we have strength in our legs.  Then we went back to playing, "Which Would You Rather Eat?"       

Marathon's in two weeks.  Thank goodness.  If I say I want to train for another one next winter, you have permission to slap me.  The training walks are slushy, cold, miserable affairs. 

Comments

[Slice]

Reminds me of a similar game I used to play with the boys back in the day. (okay so we still play it.)

The title of the game is indeed in the form of a question. I'll let you figure out what it is by giving you a sample answer:

Roseanne Barr or Star Jones

And for the ladies who surely have played this game:

Al Roker or Dr. Phil

And of course, it doesn't always have to be, um, so unappetizing.

[hkd]

Impressive! I finished my fourth marathon last Sunday at Disney Marathon in 80 degree weather and as awful as that was at the end of the day it sounds a great deal better than the conditions of your training walk! You are one tough cookie! (But we already know that.)

Your story reminded me of a guy in the race who was wearing a "Which character are you" quiz on his shirt. You & your friend appear to be Pooh, who spends most of the marathon speculating about what kind of food will be available at waterstops and post-race.

As for diminished brain function my husband was just floored by the difference in brain power and over all fatigue that kicked in for him past the 20 mile mark. It was his first marathon and despite hearing my stories and warnings he just didn't believe it until it hit him. My point is - that everybody has brain fog at this type of distance.

Good Luck at your event! I hope it turns out better than last year!

[jdz one]

I'm definitly food-motivated when it comes to training!

Your post reminded me of this article on xtri a few years ago about what one thinks about when out on their own for several hours.... you might enjoy it: http://www.xtri.com/article.asp?id=522

Congrats on a LONG stinkin' walk! The race itself will be cake after that!