21km, Solo, Hot

This past weekend, when I was scheduled to do the 21km on Sunday morning, I was waking up in a tent in the wilds of Grande Cache, AB, where my boyfriend was participating in the Canadian Death Race.

Instead, I did the 21km run yesterday, which would have been nice had I not decided to run it at noon. (interjection: I wish we had HTML voice tone tags. That would be so useful)

Yes, at noon in Alberta's summer drop-dead heat, I was running 21km. I knew it wasn't the best of ideas when I made it to 3km and was looking at my watch. I had already taken my shirt off, and by 5km, was giving serious thought to packing it in.

Alas, no, the Pride of Jelly is not to be denied. Someone had mentioned doing a 10km run, and I was indignant. By the 6km mark, where I could have crossed the street and gone home, I turned the other way and continued. Up 97 St. I went, imagining how wonderful it would feel to toss 21km in someone's face in retribution. By 11km, the shirt actually went back on because I was getting cold chills which meant my core temperature was overheating. At 13km, I stopped again at Subway and availed myself to their cold fountain water. Through-out, I would stop under shade for a few minutes, and took far more walk-breaks than I usually do. By 15km, there was no stopping. I paused at the nearby church to take a photo of their advert sign ("Is your prayer well-done or rare?"), and continued.

The last 4km were the hardest. I was walking every 2-5 minutes, but I kept going, damnit. I even passed the last 'Go Home Now' point (17km) in order to get the full distance. The sun was beating down hot and repressing at 27C. I wasn't sure if the cold chills had given up the ghost or if I'd successfully beaten back over-heating.

Finally, I made it to 21km, right outside my house. I tramped back in, chucked down a glass of water and some salt chips, and went for the best cold shower ever. Well, it started warm, so as to not shock the system.

Let me say this: running long distances in heat is not fun. It can be done, but it sucks. If my race day doesn't begin at a beautiful 15C, the least the weather can give me is some cloud.
On the other hand, I met the wall on 21km, and I ... well, it didn't win, but I didn't either. But I can learn.

C'mon, Canadian Derby Half-Marathon, bring it on. Two weekends from now, I will win over you, and then I will eat a ridiculous brunch to celebrate.