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.

A week ago I went on a 13-miler around the streets of Bethlehem. I was running at a decent clip, so imagine my surprise when I still felt good at the end. Too good. 13 miles was my longest run of the week– it’s meant to stretch my limits. And finishing that run didn’t leave me feeling adequately challenged. So I decided that I would kick up this week’s long run. Maybe then I would find satisfactory punishment.

Man, did I ever.

I ran 15 miles through an unshoveled, unplowed Bethlehem. I was lifting my knees as high as I could at first to try to hop over the snow. Then I got tired enough that I was just trudging through it, kicking the 6-inch-deep snow in front of my feet. My hips and quads were… well, have you ever tried to use a rubber band that’s been left in the sun? When it’s dried out and covered with cracks? And when you try to stretch it, it kind of crumbles instead of snapping? Yeah, it was like that.

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?