It lay at the bottom of the list under the category: fitness goals
- 16 miles
The Galleria trail. I find it helpful to give things more personalized names. A name like “trail 6” or “route 5” just doesn’t have the proper gravitas for me. The Galleria was one of Houston’s best known malls and it was in the vicinity of this trail. The trail was actually Briar Forest road all the way to Loop 610 west and back home. 8 miles there and 8 miles back.
I’d been crossing things off my goals list, left and right during the year but had consciously avoided this one as much as possible. The thing seemed ludicrously impossible. I was still mastering 6 miles a day. Never mind such lofty goals like 16 miles or even a 26 mile marathon. This remained in the background like one of those unwinnable prizes at a crooked carnival game. Ever beckoning but you know you just can’t do it and trying would be a waste of time. So you just leave it up there and tolerate it cause it looks so good.
Long about June or so I had made great progress in some areas. Far more frankly than I’d expected or hoped. This goal came up again. Maybe, just maybe it was worth a try. It wasn’t.
About 5 miles in I began thinking about the rest of the distance and my will faltered. I stopped around Chimney rock street and returned home. About 13 miles or so and my feet and legs already complaining. I obviously needed more seasoning.
So I got on with life. This goal went back up on the shelf for the time being.
October rolled around and I decided that I was now ready and made two equally disastrous attempts. 14 miles. Close but it wasn’t happening. More than anything I lacked the willpower to see this through.
It’s late November and this unfinished goal nags at me. Late Friday night and driving home after an art show and I’ve had a pretty dismal day and I’m keyed up. Hell, I’m angry. Just a frustrating day overall. I want something. Something to work out my frustrations on. The Galleria trail. I want to go now, never mind waiting till morning. I’m beyond just giving it the old college try or doing my best. 16 miles or bust.
I finally have the impetus to do this. The proper frame of mind to tackle this.
I go to bed pretty late but I can’t sleep. I keep thinking “How, how can I do this if I’ve failed three times already?” Then the answer hits me. Don’t do this. Do more. Go up Briar Forest but return by Westheimer road. I get up and fire up the computer and plot out the new route on Google Earth. 16.6 miles. I stretch out the course some more by adding twists and turns and it comes out as 17.5 miles. I go back to bed. That should be enough.
I was setting up an even more impossible task and diminishing the power of the original challenge.
I can’t sleep the rest of the night. Not that I have much night left anyways. A few hours of lying in bed with my eyes open and unable to fall asleep. Let’s do this now! Tear’em to pieces! I finally get out of bed just after 4 and dress and head out. I have to practice self control to avoid going full out. Save it for the long haul.
Down Briar Forest and past the giant estates in the Memorial Villages. Miniature towns carved out as tax havens back in the 50s for people with money who wanted to get away from Houston taxes but to still enjoy the benefits of Houston living. For such a rich community they were sure chintzy about street lights. At that time of the morning, Briar Forest was as empty and dark as a country lane.
Past Voss, past FountainView, past Chimney Rock and into new territory. My body holding together quite well. Morning after morning after morning of runs have accustomed my body to long runs of this length. But will it get me through a much longer run?
Post Oak Boulevard. Our version of Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles. Past this is my goal. Loop 610, the steel and concrete moat that surrounds old Houston and divides Houston between the suburbs and the urban areas. Between the places that people want to be and the places that most have to live in.
I worry that the Loop off ramps will be swarming with traffic but at this hour on a Saturday the off ramps are nearly deserted and I cross the street quite easily. Running under the Loop and above me it fairly hums with life as traffic rolls on past overhead.
I crossover and go inside the loop. I take the last few steps and land with a triumphal hop on the sidewalk of the other side. I had made it. Even if I have to crawl back home now, I had made it. I run over to Westheimer and take the road back.
It’s amazing how you can drive by a place all the time and miss so many details. All the little shops that I didn’t know were there near the Galleria area. You really miss so much cocooned away in your steel and glass car.
Back at Chimney rock. The first of the pains start. Maybe my quadriceps. A throbbing dull ache with each step. I tell myself it will go away or at least hope that it will. I’ve got nearly eleven miles in and six or so to go.
I go into a rhythmic pace. left, right, left, right. Must not stop, cannot stop. Keep going. Three more streetlights till Hillcroft. Can you see it? Way down there. Just 3 more lights.
A new pain. This time one of the toes in my right foot. Each time I step into it. A sharper pain.
3 more lights till Dunvale. Must be around mile 13.
You’ve done more than before. Quit now. Sit down and have a rest and then walk the rest of the way home. No. Keep going.
Running on the road now as the sidewalks are cracked and easy to trip on. In a bit of a daze as I tire out. I can barely hop out-of-the-way of oncoming traffic. Keep going.
3 more lights till Fondren. Then you’ll see some of the more familiar running routes. In the distance there it is. Chuy’s restaurant. You pass Chuy’s on your long runs. You’re practically home, see? Just keep going.
My left leg is now as stiff as a board. I don’t think my knee is even bending now. Aches with every step. Knees are the old tenants of the body. They constantly complain and remind you about tenant agreements and threaten to report you to the super.
My mouth is dry. Despite the cool weather I’ve sweated out every drop of water. Wish I cut spit. My mouth feels like sandpaper.
“You’re doing this, you’re doing this” my mantra to keep me going. My little prayer to maintain my faith here in this dark hour.
3 more lights till the Beltway. Why’s it always three more lights?!?!
Behind me the sun is rising Just lightening up everything around me. A ludicrous thought enters my mind. If the sun comes up you will lose and have to do it all over again. No! that’s ridiculous. It’s true. No, that’s dumb. Despite the pain I quicken my pace as much as I can which isn’t much.
Hayes road. I could cut through Hayes road and get back home quicker. No. I signed up for the full course and I will do the full course. If I do this now then I won’t have to do it again. Of course that’s a lie. I will have to do this more times and do even more. I knew what the next stage would be. No more messing around with more intermediaries. 26.2. Once I mastered this route then there could be no more dallying. But that was for next year.
Stoneford Drive and finally there’s my street. I can’t muster up any more strength as I reach my driveway. No celebrations, not even a mental pat on the back. I slow down and try to walk. My legs can’t make sense of walking and I stagger round like a drunken man almost falling over. I can barely get the key in the lock.
My knees protest as I trudge upstairs. I sit in my office chair and peel off my shoes. That ache in my right foot was a toenail. I had ripped it and the sock was bloody. I always heard old-time runners complain about bloody socks and black and blue toes. Now I understood what they meant. Now I was an old-timer.
I had done “the impossible”. I headed for the showers as a wave of exhaustion finally washed over me. I tried to focus on what would be the next impossible goal.
Recent Comments