This past Saturday, I participated in a company-funded 20-miler that took me all around Philadelphia. A Nathan rep was present, and generous enough to supply everyone with some sort of hydration device. Brooks was also present, giving out free stuff and using cornstarch to show off their very cool DNA technology. Also present was Anne Mahlum, founder and president of Back on My Feet (the organization which puts on The Lone Ranger Ultra).

There was a time when I wouldn’t have thought twice about a 20-miler. It wouldn’t even have been the long run of my week. But that time was over half a year ago; concerning long distance, I am out of practice. I’ve been putting in relatively low mileage, running with my high-school racers and then doing extensions afterward.

I was therefore a little apprehensive. The longest run I’d done since the ultra was 10.5 miles. I knew that the jump to 20 was going to be… uncomfortable.

What I did not know was that I was actually jumping to 23 miles, or that I would do it with Maggie, a pleasant– but inconveniently skilled– marathoner. She was in much better shape than I, and running alongside her forced me to keep my pace up.

(Good luck in the Philly marathon, Maggie!)

Anyway, my body held up well under my recklessness. I used this run to test my HPL #020 pack, and I think that the steady hydration contributed to my success. Or at least, it contributed to the fact that I could walk around later that day.

Tomorrow I’m scheduled for a (‘nother) 20 mile run. I ran this distance last Friday, but I’m hoping for better results.

I was not so well prepared for last Friday’s run. I had taught all day, so I’d had little time during the day to eat or to drink much water. The usual fatigue of a full workweek also weighed on me. I went out with the intent of a slow, slow long run to end the week.

I was surprised, then, when I found myself feeling pretty good for the first 10 miles. At mile 11, when I stopped for a water break, my legs bounced and jittered with the lovely energy that marks a good run. for the next 5 miles, they felt okay. Then, my lack of preparation kicked in.

My runner friend has a saying I enjoy, which seems to apt for this situation. Every runner knows the moment in a strenuous run when your body just crumples, and you curve your back forward and suddenly your legs feel incredibly heavy. My friend likes that say that that’s when “he put the refrigerator on your back.” Let’s pause a moment and just visualize having a refrigerator strapped to your back and trying to run. That’s pretty much what it feels like, right?

At mile 16, he put the refrigerator on my back.

My form went to hell; my back bent forward and my feet were barely clearing the ground. My muscles suddenly became stiff. I stopped sweating and couldn’t form spit anymore. I knew that 20 miles was a lot to ask of my body, especially with such poor preparation. Those last four miles were many times harder than the first 16. They sucked. But I successfully made it home after 20 miles.

So really, 20 miles should be old hat by now, right? And I’m better prepared. Tomorrow’s run should be a cinch.

Right?

So, Spring Break was not as restful as I thought. In the midst of all of my obligations, however, I managed to stay on top of my mileage. I finished a 63-mile week, which is what I ran through most of the cross-country season. This week I’ll be bumping it up to 68 miles, though– the most miles I’ve ever run in a week.

Speaking of records, I ran my longest distance– ever– this past Friday. My formula had me scheduled for 17.5 miles, which would tie my longest distance run up to that point. But who can settle with a tie?

The conditions were perfect for a cross-country runner. Our unseasonable warmth had given way to a (very seasonable) cold rainstorm. I was about 13 miles into my run and passing by my old high school track. And this is when I decided that, no, a tie was not good enough. I’ve tied enough PRs. So I stopped by the track to run half a mile, putting the run’s total distance a little over 18.

I returned home less beaten up than I would have expected. Sure, I was sore, and stiff, and soaked, and chilled. But not in the agony that I used to experience on my weekly long run. Certainly not in the agony I would usually experience after 18 miles. This formula I’ve cobbled together, unscientific though it may be, seems to have gotten me in better shape than ever.

At the end of a long week of teaching, I found myself sprinting across campus to fulfill my student-teacherly obligations. I had just submitted two forms containing my cooperating teacher’s evaluation of my performance, along with a detailed layout of next week’s lessons. I had to get to another professor’s office so that I could discuss a lesson I could barely remember. My red tie was bouncing on my shoulder, and my knees ached from the cold weather. Had I remembered to give that student all of her homework for the next week so that she could go on vacation? Was I meeting with Nate’s parents on Monday or Tuesday? Holy crap, I had to submit my portfolio soon. Did Dashawn ever give me a note for missing fourth period?

When I got home on a Friday afternoon, I was exhausted. I laid down my bag, untied my tie, and undressed. I struggled with my dress shoes until my feet popped out like a couple of dark corks. Then I pulled on my beat-up running shoes.

My longest run of the week is always on a Friday. After five days in the eighth grade gauntlet, my thoughts are tangled, my body weary, and my emotions running high. To get out on the road for an hour and a half, just me and the elements…

Well, it untangles me. It energizes me. It brings me peace.

This morning I met up with a friend to embark upon our third annual Art Museum run.

Every year we meet to run from our high school track to the Art Museum in Philadelphia, about 13 miles away. It was my friend who chose the Art Museum as our destination- I don’t know why; it seems arbitrary now. He probably just wanted to run up the stairs and wave his fists. Ah, tourists.

Three years ago, when the tradition started, 13 sounded like a lot of miles. By the time we’d reached the museum, we could do no more than crawl up the famous Rocky Steps.

This year, on the other hand, 13 miles just lacked that old satisfaction. I had done 15 miles for the last two Thursdays, making 13 seem like a breeze. We were also moving at a slow pace, to the point that when we reached the steps, I barely felt tired.

So after the usual route, I extended my run until it was 17 miles long- one of my longest distances ever. And that, that seems worthy of fist-waving.

P.S.: The chaffing has me walking bow-legged right now. Can anyone recommend a good lube for future long runs?