MCM Training Week 3: Packing is cross-training, right?

I’m barely squeezing this entry in, and I should really be packing or winding down and going to sleep early or something, but I just need to do a little something for me, so here it is. This week was a big epic fail when it came to structured cross-training, but packing and carting boxes and making a zillion trips up and down the stairs lugging garbage bags and Goodwill donations totally counts, right? But here’s the breakdown:

Monday: cross-train (packing)

Tuesday: scheduled for 3 miles easy – actual: 3.6 mile sanity run

Wednesday: cross-train (packing)

Thursday: 7 mile tempo run

Friday: cross-train (packing)

Saturday: 14 mile long run; cross-train (packing)

Sunday: cross-train (packing)

I know, my week is thrilling.

As if moving isn’t stressful enough, I had a really big case at work so I completely skipped going to the gym on Monday (and the rest of the week, but whatever) so I could be at the office from 6:15 am to 5 pm. I bolted out of there right at 5 and got right to packing.

For my easy run on Tuesday, I adapted a fairly scenic 4-mile loop I did the other week and didn’t actually measure it beforehand. It was a complete sanity run: I wound up bringing both my watch and my iPod, but it still relaxed me quite a bit, especially since I was just starting packing, at that stage when all you’re doing is pulling stuff out of closets and drawers and cabinets and making a huge freaking mess. I’m kind of a messy person, but big messes like that still bother me and stress me out. I’m a puzzle.

Thursday’s tempo was kind of a crash and burn. NF and I had both had partner runs scheduled, but they both fell through, so he came over to my place (he’s staying at a friend’s just a couple blocks away) and we ran the warm up together. He’s more stressed than I am – he’s proposing his thesis, um, tomorrow – but had a kickass run. I, on the other hand, succumbed to burning-the-candle-at-both-ends and sort of crashed and burned. I made it through, and I hit my splits, but I quit on nearly every tempo mile, stopping my watch and heaving and cursing and getting pissed off at myself. The only exception was the second tempo mile, which is all downhill.

It was all mental, though I know around tempo mile 4 I started feeling kind of woozy. I slowed a little and it passed, so I’m not sure what that was about. It wasn’t bad enough for me to just bag it, but I think my stress level had a lot to do with it. NF and I downloaded about the run after I finished, a few minutes after him, stretching and cooling down, and I had a little meltdown, crying into his shoulder. Then I felt a little better.

This weekend my mom came into town to help me pack, and while she slept in (or tried to, you’ll see why in a moment), NF and I had a 14 miler to get done. I realized quickly upon waking that I had no clue where either of my 22-oz handhelds were. Crap. I remembered one being in my backpack and some point, and yet it was gone. Were they buried under stuff? Did they get boxed up? Or, worse, accidentally thrown out? I woke my mom up to see if they were boxed, and I don’t think she got back to sleep. Worst daughter.

So I did my best – I carried my 12 oz and a 16 oz regular plastic bottle. It was a pain and I was starting the run in a frustrated pace. But I managed to run without listening to tunes for the first 8ish miles, draining the plastic bottle and pitching it around mile 7.5.

Foggy lens Gu break by the Monongahela

NF wasn’t up to the planned last-3-at-half-marathon pace but we managed to push a bit at the end and he helped me finish at my HM pace. The last mile was brutal – we got stuck at every single light and just wanted to be done.

Boy were we glad when it was over.

The move is almost over – at least the packing part is, but it’s funny how long the last 10 to 15 percent of packing can take – and thank goodness this is a cutback week. I’ve broken up my easy runs a bit already so I can squeeze in a few early morning miles to start my day off right: alone and in the zone. Tomorrow morning will be my last run from this apartment, my first Pittsburgh apartment, where I have lived for the last three years.

And Wednesday? We have the moving truck from 12 to 6 pm, and though we got movers for the big stuff, it’ll still be a major cross-training day. Here’s to it.

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I'm a 29-year-old writer and runner. This is my running blog.

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