Yesterday was my last long run (to me, a long run is anything more than 10 miles) before Philly. Decided on a combination of technical trails, paved trails, dirt roads and regular old roads for a 12-mile loop. Bill let me borrow his 83-cent GPS watch, mostly because he wasn't sure it actually worked and I wanted to try to figure out if it did.
I think it works. After standing in front of my house shaking it at the sky for a bit, it picked up a signal and I manged to figure out how to have it track overall pace and distance, but not how to stop when I was stuck at red lights and stop signs. At times it told me I was running a 42-minute-mile but it seemed to give an accurate measurement of distance and of speed when I wasn't standing still.
At the end of my loop I was happy with my pace and, more importantly, with how I felt. Until an hour later when every body part below my neck felt like it was trying to vacate my person. I flopped on the couch in a robe and whined and whined. The fact that we were meeting friends for dinner at a raw bar only made me whine more -- the idea of slimy oysters and clams, Tabasco sauce and beer made me weep a bit.
I made it through dinner, barely. After eating one oyster, a dozen oyster crackers and some clover (nothing helps you refuel after a 12-mile run like some clover) I was GRUMPY. I was grateful to climb into bed and more grateful for the extra hour of sleep. Two a.m. should come twice every day.
Woke up today and sat around, drank coffee and we eventually hopped on the bikes for a 6.5-mile ride to an orienteering meet. I hadn't done one in forever -- years and years. And the last time I did an o-meet Bill thought I was gone forever. The incentive to get out of pjs and out the door was zero.
I'd like to say that I blew through the course at the speed of sound. But instead, I stood literally on top of one point for several minutes trying to figure out what was going on (I was on top of a boulder, the flag was on the underside of the boulder) and then I got stuck in a shit-ton of thorns when I tried to take a short-cut that wasn't -- I plucked thorns from my arms and legs as I wandered around trying to figure out where I was. After crashing into a creek and gashing my hand (because it doesn't count as a jaunt in the woods unless there is blood) I worked my way back to being found instead of lost, but I was sort of pissed that I screwed up.
But, I actually could read the map, never got insanely lost, never resorted to guessing where I was and didn't have Bill thinking I had been abducted by the Blair Witch, so hooray.