Sunday I ran the slowest 16 miles ever. I bonked at mile five. Yea, mile five. Of a 16-miler. Who does that?

Well, apparently me.

I ran 10 trail miles, followed by a 32 lap swim, the day before and my legs, while not horribly heavy, weren’t exactly fresh. But that wasn’t the problem. My belly was the problem.

More to the point, this was the problem:

I’m a little addicted to this stuff and put it on practically everything, and I don’t just squeeze on a dab, either. I coat whatever I’m eating with the good rooster sauce. It’s kind of my thing.

Except when it’s not. Because eating too much hot sauce can cause your intestinal tract to become overly excited (i.e., frequent and desperate trips to the bathroom).

Saturday night I went a wee overboard with the hot sauce (i.e., five frequent and desperate bathroom trips), and by Sunday morning, my belly was so totally disgusted with me that it complained every. single. minute. of. that. damned. run.

We ran the first 8.5 miles on hilly trails and all of that up and down and up and down motion just about did me in. I whined. I bitched. I felt oh-so-sorry for myself, and it got so bad that I finally told my partner and the dog to run ahead because I knew that if I couldn’t stand myself, they couldn’t, either.

Finally I ate half of a peanut butter and chia seed sandwich and I felt a tiny bit better. My partner drove home with the dog and I ran the last 7.5 miles on the bike trail, and anyone who knows me knows that pavement is not my favorite running surface.

But I trudged onward. I turned on my music. I looked at the mountains and decided that I should feel grateful. I picked up the pace. And then I picked it up some more, and some more again and even though I kept picking up the pace, I was still running ridiculously slow.

When I finally got home I slumped on the couch with a glass of chocolate almond milk and spent the rest of the evening doing what I do best: curled up on the couch with the dog and a good book.

P.S. I’m trying to decide if I want to do the Alaska Endurance Trail Run in Fairbanks on June 3. It’s a timed race, which I’ve never done, and I’m not sure if running a six-mile loop over and over for 12 hours would drive me crazy. Mostly, though, I’m not in shape for ultra distances. I’ve only been logging 40ish miles a week and my last 20-miler was almost two months ago. So yeah, it would probably hurt but so what, eh? It’s a 12-hour race. It’s supposed to hurt. (There’s also a 24-option. Hopefully I’m smart enough not to sign up for that one instead.)

Here’s the elevation chart per six-mile loop. It’s only about 440 feet per lap but still, I’ll bet the incline from mile 2-4 would start to feel downright mean by the third or four loop.

Last week’s stats:
Monday: Rest, 30 laps swim
Tuesday: 6 miles; weights; 35 minutes bike
Wednesday: 4 miles tempo run; 45 minutes uphill treadmill
Thursday: 6 miles, easy pace; weights; 45 minutes bike
Friday: Rest
Saturday: 10 miles, medium pace; swim 32 laps
Sunday: 16.35 sloowww miles