Too much, too soon

I came down with the Flu on Wednesday at 1:51am. Well, actually, it was more of what came up in the wee hours and for the next 8 hours. By Thursday, I was feeling about 70% of normal. No way I was running and, in fact, I cancelled all training with the expectation that I'd be ready for Sunday's 22 mile run. By mid-day Saturday, I was feeling "ok" but still not 100%. Still, I planned for the run but in my mind had scaled it back somewhat.

Sunday, I felt normal. Or nearly so. Almost. Maybe. But, pride goes first, so off I went promising to do a double check at the 1.5 hour mark to see if I needed to return early.

I hit my local ridge line knowing that I'd still have some tough climbs to do. The sky was a brilliant blue, no clouds, and the visibility was somewhere around 100 miles. Just amazing.

The first 4 miles started off steeply and continued a steady climb up from 360' to 1200'. And in those first 4 miles, I knew deep down this was going to be a bad day. My heart rate was 10bpm too fast before I took my first stride and quickly shot up into the high 150's. For 4 miles, instead of walking to bring down my heart rate, I pushed it and watched my heart rate average 157-161. Way too much anarobic burning for too long. Pride pushed me on.

Topping out on the ridge line, the views were stunning. I could see the northern coastal range well beyond Mt. Tamalpais some 35 miles North. To the North East, I could make out the snow capped Sierra's near Lassen, and to the East, puffy cumulus cloaked the Tahoe region. I pushed on, confident that I could bring the work load down for the next few miles and get back some energy. A check of my pace shoul have sent me warning signals. I was only seeing about 12 minute miles over the last 6 miles and my heart rate was still too high.

I hit the 10 mile mark feeling "okay" but not great. By now, I knew I was going to have a hard push back if I doubled the trail. All I could think about were the miles ahead. Not good. So, I took some "short cuts" and rationalized only an 18 mile run. At about 11 miles, I knew it was going to be a stinker. Small hills pushed me up into the redline. My power was gone and my body was working on getting oxygen to rapidly draining quad muscles. Food got harder to eat. By mile 13 I had regained the top of the ridge line and knew that the next 4.5 were largely down hill. That only pissed me off, because I knew I was spent. There was no power left. And I hadn't yet even done half the distance I need to do in 4 weeks.

The last 2 miles down hill were painful on tired quads. I was never more happy to reach a trail head and never more disappointed.

Too hard too early. Too soon after an illness. Too much, too soon. Damn.