So, yesterday's team run can only be described as an experience. First off, the course was 11.4 miles -- you heard me right, ELEVEN POINT FOUR. This is 2.4 miles farther than I had ever run in my life, and we were promised two major hills on the course. Yikes!

We started out at 7:45 and within the first quarter-mile, there was a massive clap of thunder. We were running next to the river, and we could hear the downpour coming across the water before it reached us. Turning around, we could see this massive wall of rain moving over the river toward us -- and there was NOTHING we could do to avoid it! The rain hit us 10 seconds later -- huge drops, and a lot of them -- and by the end of our first mile, we were completely drenched. I couldn't have been wetter if I'd just gone swimming. There was also a lot of thunder and lightning going on, to the point where the marathon coordinator actually gave us the option of stopping the run. But no way was I going to stop after a mile, so I kept on going, and the storm passed by about Mile 4. (In the meantime, I'd ditched my glasses for the remainder of the run, since with all the water and humidity I could actually see better [though not well] without them than with them.)

I will say a couple things for running in really hard rain. First of all, it lends this kind of comic "What the hell am I doing out here?!" atmosphere to the run, such that you can hardly help laughing a little at the ridiculousness of it all. Second, while my mind often tends to wander/worry/ruminate/anticipate during runs, in conditions like that it's very easy to stay in the present and be aware of what you're doing. Hard rain facilitates mindfulness while running, at least for me.

Mile 5 was the major hill of the run. It was kind of a two-humped hill, with the second hump a lot steeper than the first. I got up them, albeit lagging a bit behind the four teammates I was keeping pace with. It was actually the stretch just after the top that felt hardest, because once you're no longer going uphill, you realize just how much you're gasping for breath, a sensation that makes me feel like I might be dying. (Not literally dying, but... you know. It makes me feel a little panicky, like my lungs might not be able to recover.) Those were the moments when I thought I might not make it through this whole run, because I knew there would be another big hill later in the run. But I just kept on plugging away. It was fortunate that there were several of us sticking together as a group on this run, because my usual running buddy Sam had to call it quits after Mile 6 due to a nasty blister left over from our last waterlogged run. I'm not sure I could have made it without others running around me to keep the pace.

We stopped to refuel back at base camp and then embarked on the second loop of the run. The second hill turned out not to be that big after all, which was good, because my legs were feeling a bit rubbery by the time we reached it. After that, my last three miles were very, very slow -- the legs just had nothing left. I fell behind my running mates and had to walk for maybe a quarter-mile, but then was able to jog again at a slow, steady pace. With about a half-mile to go, Coach Ethan caught up with me and jogged alongside me for the rest of the way, which helped a lot! There's a lot to be said for being distracted from all the pain you're in. :-)

So, I made it! My knees and one ankle were a little sore afterward, but I iced them yesterday and am not too stiff today. I slept like mad after the run -- a three-hour nap and then a 12-hour sleep last night. It wasn't by choice, either; my body just completely shut down. I need to get used to the idea that from now on, my Saturdays are going to be pretty much shot. It's a bit humbling, just what I'm asking my body to do.