13.5 & 18.

Waking up at 4:15am on a Saturday morning is pretty brutal. But when you're preparing for a 13 mile run, it's doubly brutal. I splash water on my face, roll my feet over two ice cold pint glasses to get rid of the mild plantar fasciitis, and I'm awake. As some of you know, the process of preparing for a double-digit mile run like this is pretty involved. You have to freeze Gatorade and water the night before. You set your iTunes playlist the night before. The more you can do the night before, the better. Because you don't want to have to get up any earlier than necessary. So I met the guys at 4:50, we wait for Blake who put out water for everyone, and we hit the road around 5:15. I ran 6 miles with the group, and the last 7.5 alone. My legs felt heavy at the end, but I finished in about 2 hours 15 minutes. Which is respectable. I don't really care about time at this point, I just want to be able to increase my mileage and stay injury free. If I run 11 minute miles and finish the marathon, so be it. It's my first marathon, so finishing the marathon is my primary objective. Check that, my 'only' objective. I can lower my time later. This isn't easy. But I'm enjoying it. And I'm learning anything is possible when you completely rely on God to do something. God knows I couldn't do it alone. Oh, I also played 18 holes immediately after my run. The first 6 holes on the front I was 11 over. The last 12 holes I was 10 over. It was hot. I was tired. But I tied my father-in-law on the back 9, who played as bad as I've ever seen him play. So there's that.

Hayden Hungry.

Before I started running, I ate like a bird. Now that I'm running, I'm eating like a T-Rex. If my predator eye spots food, it's a goner. I think my body is telling me to refuel. I wonder if T-Rex's body told him the same thing. He ran around all over creation on those two monster legs of his. If only his tiny arms could've done the same. I read somewhere that in order to lose 1 pound, you have to burn 3600 calories. On average, you burn 100 calories a mile, and evidently you burn just as many walking as you do running. It has something to do with the amount of pounds per step being the same, regardless of whether you run or walk. I guess that makes sense. I'll leave that to the math experts.

In April, I weighed about 180. Now, I weigh anywhere from 173-175. Here's a perfect example of how much I'm eating--while blogging about eating, I just ate a Chick-Fil-A chicken biscuit. Did I mention that I'm eating a lot? Fortunately, I've got a good stash of almonds and peanut butter crackers at my desk. Speaking of which, those need to go in my belly. Like now.

Dance Moves.

Last night, big drops of rain fell from the sky. Lots of big drops. That, coupled with the fact that everyone has their sprinkler systems set for 5:30am, could only mean one thing--mud caked sidewalks. It probably could mean more than one thing, but for now, we'll just stick to one. Most sidewalks are uneven, by nature, and when it's early, and you haven't had coffee, your percentages of slipping and falling are pretty high. Higher than usual. I don't want to brag, but this morning I incorporated some pretty sweet dance moves in an effort to keep from turning an ankle, or a knee, or some other leg part that doesn't need to be turned. The streets I run on are busy. Especially busy for a residential neighborhood. Most drivers are fairly observant and move over into the next lane when I'm running their direction. Some won't move until the last second, and others won't move, period, which sends me jumping up a curb and onto wet grass, which can lead to the aforementioned sweet dance moves. I'm thinking that maybe I should choose a different 6 mile route next time. One that doesn't induce injury or near-death scenarios.

Speaking of injury, I recently joined the ITB Syndrome Club. It's a fairly common injury, as most runners know, and it sounds like a little bit like a test I took back in elementary--the ITBS test. It stood for the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. My injury, the ITB one, does not. It stands for Illio-Tibia Band syndrome, and it is a mother. It can sideline you for up to a year. Fortunately, I caught mine early, and it only kept me out for 2 weeks. Or maybe I didn't have it to begin with--all I know is I had all the symptoms. Pain on the outside of the knee cap is the most common trait. Thank God it's going away. I tried to run on it a few weeks ago and saw the vision of completing my first marathon going down the proverbial tubes. And heck, it still may. My longest post-injury run was only 8 miles. Last time I checked, that was a lot less than 26.2. So I've got a long way to go. I'm on week 7 of Hal Higdon's Marathon Training Guide (Novice 1), which means I'm 11 weeks away from The Rock. Pray for me. In the meantime, I'll be doing the robot.