18 miles in my brain

This past Saturday, I ran 18 miles, my final long run in training for my Marathon (3-26).  It was the first time I've ever run this far by myself--without any companion to chat with. I have a six-mile loop near my house known as the "Hilly Miller," and I parked my car along the course and did three laps around, so I could stop for GU, water and stretching a couple of times. This is my brain on an 18 mile run:

Mile 0.5: "Here we go....This is going to take quite a long time...I can't imagine training for an ironman or something. How would anyone find the time?  I supposed those people get up much earlier than me, so they'd be finished by 8:00am.  Here I am, just starting and it's almost noon...Oh well, that might be good. Hopefully that means the weather will warm up while I run.  I don't like running in this coldish-ness." 

Mile 1.0:  "Damn, forgot to set stopwatch on my ipod." (Immediately set stopwatch on my ipod.)

Mile 1.1: "Damn, again. Also forgot to tuck in my undershirt." (Stop briefly to tuck in my undershirt.)

Mile 2: "La la, this is great. Running feels so refreshing and spiritual. Truly lovely to be outside in the fresh air. I could just run and run forever!"

Mile 3: "I should intermittently do grapevines to give my knees a rest and simultaneously strengthen my inner and outer thighs to help with balance and stability.  Ray Lewis does grapevines, and look how agile he is!"

Mile 3.2: "Hmmm...grapevines take a surprising amount of effort to cover a surprisingly small distance. Think will stick to running for now. Maybe will try to reincorporate some grapevines at the end of my run."

Mile 4: "Love this song!! Bruce Springsteen! Thank goodness for my psychic-friend-ipod. Will play this at least three or four more times in a row.  Very motivated.  Could run forever!"

Mile 5: "I wonder if the lady on this street will be out again this weekend cleaning up her lawn. She must of thought I was a lunatic running past her every hour last weekend."

Mile 5.5: "Did not see lady...maybe the next lap.  Hate this last mile of my loop.  It's always so trafficy and the roads are narrow and I have to stop at crosswalks and pay attention in order to avoid getting flattened by an F-150.....Maybe during my second lap I will switch direction and get this annoying last bit over with first. That would also give me a different pattern of hills to run, since I'd be going the opposite of the way I normally go."

Mile 6: "One lap down, only two more to go! Hooray!"

Mile 6.1: "Oh darn, I forgot I was planning on switching directions.  I am going the same direction I was in my first lap.  Force of habit...oops. Maybe will change on my third lap, if I can remember.....If  I even decide to do a third lap.  Oh, stop it. You HAVE to do a third lap.  You are not going to be prepared for the marathon.  Do not even think of stopping as an option."

Mile 7: "How come, even when I'm running in a circle, I am ALWAYS running into the wind?!?! Dear Wind, Please cease and desist with your incessant blowing before March 26, as I have a race I need to run. I hate you. GO AWAY!"

Mile 8: "My ipod is on a shuffling streak of terrible songs....I seem to be getting one okay/mediocre song for every ten songs I forward through.  And, it's also annoyingly gravitating towards books-on-tape.  Books on tape are so great for long plane rides, but so inconvenient when they pop up on your ipod during a run.  You would think Steve Jobs would have thought of this and remedied that situation somehow."

Mile 9: "Sad, all the lacrosse boys are finished with their practice/scrimmage/whatever they were doing.  I wish they were still being cardiovascular, just like I am still being cardiovascular."

Mile 10: "Have to stop for a moment and stretch my legs...approaching the boring and trafficy last leg of my loop. Boo..."

Mile 11: "UGH...I wish it was my last lap instead of my second lap.  Maybe I will shorten my final lap a bit...16 miles?  That would still be a decent length for the training run...You are being a wimp, Mary-Michael. You finish the run you set out to do."

Mile 12: "DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT!! My license is gone. GONE! It was in my running pants pocket and now it is missing.  It has to be somewhere along the route I just went. Will have to run the entirety of the route again now, regardless just so I can find my license.  Better go the trafficy way first...hopefully it wasn't run over by a Prius.  Positive is, I remembered to reverse my direction and I am now motivated (forced) to run the last lap."

Mile 13: "Should I tell the man walking his dog that I lost my license and that he should keeps his eyes out?....No, that's ridiculous...then what would he do, chase you down?  He had to be at least sixty years old, and he doesn't know where you're running...he could mail it to me, I suppose.  But, then again, wouldn't any rational person who found my license do just that without any instruction from me? Probably....Will not mention anything to dog walkers."

Mile 14: "Still no sign of license. Why is my ipod only playing slow ballads and I'm-not-even-sure-why-I-own-this-song songs?? Doesn't it know I am in need of some extra-motivational music at this moment?!?"

Mile 14.5: "Why is it always my left leg and foot that causes me pain and grief? My right leg is always fine and my left leg gets every ailment known to runners. AND whats-more, the stupid running-store consultant didn't shed any light on that! All he really said was that my right arch collapses and I should buy $100 custom-made insoles from him to correct that. Ha!--Fat chance, Bucko! Why would i buy insoles from you that are ridiculously over-priced for my one foot that actually works right?!  I was not born yesterday, running-store salesman!"

Mile 14.6: At this moment, my left ankle completely buckled and I stumbled forward, nearly crashing to the ground....I think I hit a rock, but still.) "Grrrr....you see? Stupid, cursed left foot! Like that movie with Daniel Day Lewis...'My Left Foot.'  Except, I think that is actually a very serious movie, based on a true story.  Should not make jokes."

Mile 15: "Still no sign of license. But, there is a runner girl--a fellow runner, out to enjoy the sunshine and feel the pavement under her feet! Hooray--comradeship!

Mile 15.1: "Humph...runner girl, whose legs looked as if they could easily come up to my shoulders, has bolted off looking fresh, energetic, comfortable and athletic. I feel like a sore, tired, sweaty, stubby, chubby runt-runner, who is over-dressed in the now-quite-warm sunlight.  And, I still can't find my license! Wish I could telepathically inform the runner girl to look for it as she bounds ahead of me..."

Mile 16: "Have lost sight of runner girl....she must not be running the Hilly Miller sequence in the same way I am. I am going to have to stop and walk for a minute. Maybe the next uphill..."

Mile 16.3: "Small victory--only had to walk for about 30 or 45 seconds, then felt refreshed and ready to go!....or at least ready for my run to be over...I've been running for over three hours now.  Hmmm...maybe I'll get back to my car and find a message from the boy I like...three hours is a long time to be separated from phone in the 21st century...."

Mile 17: "Almost done--yay! Should try to do grapevines now that I'm almost finished with my run. I can give my knees a break..."

Mile 17.001: "Nope, grapevines after 17 miles is definitely a mistake....still no license..."

Mile 17.8: "Thank you, ipod! How did you know just what to play right now! I am so re-energized with this song, I am going to sing-along. I don't care who hears me!"

Mile 17.9: "Oh, damn it. I was so engrossed in my song/singing, that I lost focus on this last part of the run, which is where I tucked in my shirt and where I think I lost my license. I'm an idiot. I should take ginkobaloba or something herbal to focus better and not get distracted."

Mile 18: "Hooray! The end! I finished my long training run all by myself! Unfortunately, my last six miles did not yield a license..."

Not to worry, I ended up getting in my car and, as I was pulling out, i saw my license, about 100 yards or so from where I started running.  Thank goodness! Although, having to look for my license was a great motivator for finishing my last lap in its entirety.  What do you think about when you're running?  How do you keep going during the long not-fun parts when you feel like it will never end?