The Pain and Reward of Training

As you know, I've been training to run the Grand Canyon. When I tell people what I'm doing, the responses are all a variation of this question: "Don't people die doing that?" Which, of course, is very encouraging.So here's how it works, friends: I have been training quite hard. I've been running five days a week, including one day of hill repeats, and many hills on the other days. I've been running in this beastly heat. I've picked the energy gels that  I'll bring to the Grand Canyon, and the hydration vest. And every week, I've been doing my long runs. First 10 miles, then 12, then 14, then 16, and last weekend, 20.As any endurance runner will tell you, on certain long runs, you feel godlike. On those runs, your body is completely fluid, and you wonder why anyone would ever stop running. You pass people with ease, smugly noting your speedy splits. You feel like you could go the distance that day, no matter what the distance is.But you always have at least one long run where your legs feel like concrete. Where your mind reminds you in one minute intervals how incredibly stupid you are for agreeing to run that far. On these runs, you never hit the zone. Something is off, and it never gets turned on.Last Saturday's 20 miler was one of those days.I decided to do an old route that I love - the Minneapolis lakes. I started at Calhoun, went half way around and then connected with Harriet, then connected with Minnehaha Parkway all the way to Nokomis. When I had made it around Nokomis, I had hit ten miles, but my quads were already sore and my mind was merciless. The long runner knows that the mind gives up far before the body does, so the real work is to tell your mind to shut the hell up.I took a short break to collect myself and to remind my mind that it wasn't the boss of me. So I kept pounding, willing my body and my mind by the sheer force of desire.I made it all the way back to Harriet. Six to go. The very small hill climbing out of Harriet and towards Calhoun felt like Everest, but I kept going, until I stopped again at the Tin Fish at mile 17, sat down, and decided that I would be happiest if I never ran a step again in my life. I had three miles to go, which mostly felt like the Atlantic ocean.I knew I had to circle Lake of the Isles before I was done, but I had no desire left.And then I did what every long distance runner does, at some point: I started running again, even though what I'd rather do was die. I made it around the top of the finger of Lake of the Isles, and ran by the church where I married two sets of my friends: Isaac and Anna, as well as Andrew and Meg.At 18.5, I decided to walk the next half mile. I never do this. But sometimes, you have to adjust. I figured I'll be walking parts of the Grand Canyon, so walking now would be great training for that. Ha. It's amazing how your mind wheels and deals. I decided that at mile 19, I'd start running again, and by some force of God's grace, I did.Apparently, my face was contorted into a grotesque torture mask, because shortly after I started running again, another runner saw me and asked, "Are you in pain?"Well, sir, other than the fact that I want to cut my legs off and feed them to wolves, I feel fantastic.But here's what I did: I kept running until my watch hit 20.0. Then I stopped.It's amazing what you can do, even when you think you cannot possibly do it.On September 15th, I am going to run the Grand Canyon. There will be points during that run where I want to quit and eat pizza for the rest of my life. There will be points when I won't even be able to remember what it felt like to not be running that vast expanse of beauty and pain. But unless injury forces me to quit, I know that I will finish. I know that I will finish because on my training runs, I did not quit. I told my mind that it wasn't the boss of me.If you are in a "long run" where all you want to do is quit, you most likely need to tell your mind that it's not the boss of you. You may need to make adjustments; walk a half a mile. Sit down and rest for a few minutes. Do what you can do to get refreshed and refueled. It will be painful to keep going, but you need to keep going. You can do it.In it together, friends.Photo CreditRim to Rim Update: We had a fantastic day yesterday, and we're currently at $42,885. That's nearly 43 women saved from trafficking. Can you believe it? We're almost there, lunatics! Seven to go. Let's finish strong! Click here to donate.