I hurt all over

The marathon training plan I'm using (Galloway for those interested) called for me to do 19-20 miles this past weekend. I took the position that 19 was a gracious plenty.

Ugh. I hurt all over. In addition to the usual aches and pains in my legs, ankles, and knees after I finished running, my arms, neck, and shoulders hurt, too. My current theory as to why that was is that I was too tense in my upper body as I ran, especially as I grew more tired toward the end.

I finished 19, but it wasn't fun or easy. I have been following a run 9 minutes/ walk 1 minute ratio on my long runs. Sunday I had to switch to 4/1 for the last couple of miles. It took me a smidgen over 4 hours. Incredibly slow for serious runners, but still a little ahead of the 14 minute per mile pace I need to run at the Marine Corps Marathon to be able to finish. My hope is that DC in late October is bound to be cooler and less humid than South Carolina in August and my pace will improve with better weather. I'm reminded of a quote I heard from a guy who was asked about the so-called "runner's high." He said that the only high he ever got was when he stopped. The high point for me Sunday was definitely when I finally quit running.

Oh, and there is at least one police officer in my hometown that I'm sure is convinced that I'm some kind of nut. I started out running a little before 6:00 AM and saw him pulling into the police department, presumably to start his shift. Over the next 4 hours, I must have seen him driving around five or six times as I ran. (Did I mention that I live in a very small town and that you have to do multiple loops to get this kind of distance?) I waved every time I saw him and the progression of the looks on his face over that time cracked me up. It started as kind of respectful for being out exercising. After an hour or two, he kind of shook his head at me in amusement/puzzlement. Toward the end of four hours I could almost see him thinking to himself "Is he mentally ill? Should I call an ambulance?"

The best news is that the training plan I'm on cuts me back to 8 miles or so as a long run the next couple of weekends before I do another really long one in three weeks. Hopefully I'll be recovered by then.

My New Office

Well, it's not quite this bad, but it does kind of stink. We're in cubicles in the basement of the county office building across the street from the burned out remains of my former office. )For anyone interested, you can read my post on arson 1 and arson 2.) At least I have a place to sit now. For a week or so, we were all basically operating out of our cars.

No arrests yet, but keep your fingers crossed.

Don't Ever Say It Can't Get Worse

Just when you think the worst is over.

As I mentioned in the last post, my office was destroyed by arson Monday. In addition to me, we had offices for two other lawyers and a paralegal in there. But the one sliver of good news was that we had one lawyer and a paralegal in another building across the street.

Well, not anymore. The portion of our office that was not destroyed in the courthouse fire Monday was burned in the pre-dawn hours of Thursday morning. On the bright side, nobody was hurt. Law enforcement is working very hard to find the person or persons responsible. Some news articles are here, here, and here.

This is shaping up to be the worst week at work ever.

My Office

The courthouse where I work was struck by arson very early Monday morning. For anyone interested, some articles are found here, here, and here. Very sad. The courthouse was built in 1828 and even survived Sherman during the Civil War. And of course, the damage to records, files, etc. was extensive. My office was not burned, but part of the ceiling collapsed and I had very extensive water damage. Considering how many people we've prosecuted over the years and how many people had pending charges, the list of suspects is pretty long.

Something like this really makes you feel for people who suffer a house fire. Here I am complaining about the loss of my diplomas and other things in my office, and some people have fires at their homes and lose everything.

Anyway, it has been a very painful week at work

Longest Run of My Life

Well, yesterday I ran 15 miles. That is the farthest I've ever run in my life. I was very slow (a smidgen over 3 hours) but at least I finished. A couple of observations:

1. To get that kind of distance in a small town, you have to do some loops. For me this is much harder psychologically. Starting at my house, I basically ran two 7 mile loops with an extra one mile detour the first time. The whole first loop around I kept thinking "Ugh, I've got to do all this again." The plan I'm running has a couple of runs in the 20 to 22 mile range. I'll probably have to do three loops then.

2. If someone you know sees you running and then sees you still running an hour or two later, you get a really funny look.

3. Water is really important. My previous long run was 13 miles a couple of Sundays ago. While I was more sore physically yesterday, I wasn't as mentally fatigued or exhausted as I was then. I think this is attributable to drinking more water. Two weeks ago I went through two bottles of water while running. Yesterday, I went through four.

4. I don't care how good your shirt claims to be at wicking away sweat, there is a saturation point. For me on a muggy, humid South Carolina morning, that point is about two hours. The whole last hour I felt like I was wearing a wet rag. I tried to console myself by remembering that a regular cotton t-shirt probably would have been like that in about 30 minutes, but it still stunk. I also kept telling myself it has to be cooler and less humid in Washington, DC in late October.

Next weekend I drop back and run 8. But in two weeks I'm supposed to run 17. I'm already apprehensive now thinking about it.

Running makes you do crazy things

As I've been gradually increasing my mileage, I've begun to notice the crazy things running has made me do. Take today, for example. The plan I'm following called for a 13 mile run this morning. Now some would say that the whole idea of getting up at 5:30 am to run 13 miles on a day when my wife and kids are out of town and I could have slept late is crazy in and of itself. And I couldn't really argue with that. But it gets worse.

I've been reading about the benefits of an ice bath after a long run to help reduce muscle soreness, so I decided to try it. So at one point this morning I found myself sitting in a bathtub full of ice drinking a big glass of my current favorite post run beverage chocolate milk. (For any of you that actually know me and know what I look like, I apologize for putting that mental image in your head.) I kept thinking if I have a heart attack, please let the ice melt before they find my body.

The Chinese Martyrs

Deacon Greg Kandra has posted an excellent homily on the Chinese Martyrs over at his blog The Deacon's Bench. A short excerpt:

I didn’t really know
much about them until I was asked to preach this evening. But again,
as I read their stories, I found myself overwhelmed. The loss was so
great. But so was their courage. If you visit the Vatican website,
there are details about the 120 people who are counted among those martyrs we
remember tonight. Most of them died in the 19th century, persecuted during the Boxer Rebellion.
Reading about them, you’re struck by several things. First, are the ages. So
many were children. Three, four years old. One was ten
months old. Some were
teenagers, like 14-year-old Wang Anna…who refused to renounce her
faith. Moments before her death, she cried out: “The door of heaven
is open to all,” then whispered, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” Seconds later, she was
beheaded. So many of them were also lay people. Mothers and fathers,
even entire families. They were people like 18-year-old Chi Zhuzi, who became a
Catholic at 17, and was disowned by his family. He was eventually captured and
ordered to publicly worship idols. When he refused, they cut off his right arm.
He still refused, declaring: “Every piece of my flesh, every drop of my blood
will tell you that I am Christian.” He died by mutilation.

Here is my question: Why haven't I ever heard about this? I've gone to church on most Sundays of my life and (at least at most of the churches I've attended) we never discuss the stories of those who laid down their lives for the faith. I know I've said it before, but we Protestants are really missing something important by not discussing the Saints. It's like we have some sort of historical amnesia or something.