The day I left my soul at mile 8.

Today was a 10 miler for half marathon training. Yes 10 miles is a lot, it sounded very intimidating. My circumstances were against me as well. I missed mile 9 last week due to strep throat, and really haven't run in about 9 days. I squeezed in a short one yesterday, but thats it for the week.

I showed up with every intention of attempting 10 miles. I realized I may need to walk a bit, but I was going to give it my best shot. Miles 1-3 were a little harder than normal, as it was a little warmer that it has been lately, but we were doing fine. Miles 3-4 were a piece of cake after hitting up the water station. Miles 4-5 seemed to drag on, my running buddy and I felt that it was further than a mile (which it was a bit more). 5-7 were not bad because they were mostly downhill.

Then I hit 7-8. This is where my soul left my body. I was dehydrated. My back hurt. My feet hurt. I was feeling nauseous (curse that pitcher of Hef last night!) My amazing running buddy kept at it. She was tired too, so her pace came down. I started walk/running and attempting to keep up. But I had nothing left, nothing at all. I wish I had taken a picture of my hands, they were so swollen, I felt like Fat Bastard.

So to make a long story short, I have learned to refrain from drinking an entire pitcher of beer the night before a run. I have also purchased gear to carry my own water and snacks.

The good news is I DID IT, I FINISHED, my first double digit run! I DID IT!

I am not particularly excited about 12 miles next week. But I will be better prepared.

At least today I had a solid after-run lunch to help build back up.  Turkey burger, sliced bell pepper, nectarine, and organic/natural cheese puffs!