Saturday, I was supposed to do a 21 mile training run. It began with me trying to find some dry running clothes–its been a wet week and all my warm running clothes were WET. Sigh, I slipped on some cropped running tights, layered up a few lightweight long sleeve tops and set off in the wet muckiness. Within 2 miles, snow began to mix with the rain. By mile 5, my hands HURT like CRAZY.
In 2004, I climbed Mt. Rainier with a group of people from my university. We had to stop for longer than intended to switch up the rope teams as some people decided to turn back down to camp. We sat there for a good 40 minutes and by the time we were ready to move out, I was sick to my stomach because my hands were so cold. As I tackled the first hill at Point Defiance Park, I felt that same sick feeling coming over me. I felt a lump growing in my throat–I was fighting back tears. I thought, “Surely I am going to die!” For the next 4 miles I went back and forth, “Come on, be tough and finish the 21 miles.” and then, “Melissa, you don’t have to prove anything! 16 is sufficient!” and then, “You can work out inside this afternoon!” and then “What the hell is wrong with you! 16 miles! You don’t need to work out again this afternoon!” Sigh, and so it went over and over again.