Whoever said “If you can run 10 miles then you can run 13” was a liar.
Running, or more accurately “slowly plodding along,” for 10 miles was rough. It was also cold. And a little snowy.
I was hoping that once I reached the 10 mile run, I would feel more like I could actually run a half marathon. A magical inner switch would flip and I would say “I am a runner! I can totally run a half marathon! Watch out world!” Instead, I tweeted the first sentence above– with the hashtag: #dying. Dramatic, I know, but you get the point.
I have not mastered the whole cold-weather running thing. I wore baggy cropped sweatpants over my running tights in an attempt to keep my bottom half from going numb… Which happened anyway by mile 2. I grabbed some water around mile 4 and dropped my vest off at the car, which I almost immediately regretted. Did I mention it was cold? I picked it up again at mile 7. I had some more water and started my [highly scientific] swedish fish regimen. But I was so tired at that point that I essentially ate swedish fish for the next three miles. I made it to exactly 10.0, but realized too late that I was a bit too far from the car. It was a cold walk back.
Here I am, complaining about the cold… And I am scheduled to run 11 miles next weekend in Minnesota! The forecast says it will be 16 degrees next Saturday. Yikes!
Do you have any tips for freezing-cold runs?