Certifiably Bummed

Let me just get it out right from the start before I lose my courage. I didn't complete my scheduled 18-mile LSD today. Dog-gone-it! Dad-gum-it! Shoot!

This was not in my plan book. I'd been looking ahead to this LSD all week, obsessively plotting the route that was going to take me through nine miles of Bay area wonder I'd never seen before except from the blur of a car window. My clothes were laid out last night on the dining room table along with 2 GU's, a cheese sandwich, and all the required sundries I never use but always take for any and every emergency that could conceivably occur, and my camel back was filled with Smart Water and chillin' in the fridge.

I was showered, dressed, nutrionally fueled, and out of the house by 6:30 this morning. I caught rapid transit into San Francisco and the soles of my sneakers were tapping a steady cadence on the pavement by 8:00 a.m. around the Embarcadero. I was pumped. The weather was San Francisco perfection, chilly with a fog so low and thick it left a cool mist on my skin. I felt great. Even the "evil twin" toes were on their best behavior. Life was good.

For the first 7 miles I was holding a comfortable and oh so pleasing 14:30 pace. "This is going to be a great day," I'm thinking. "I'm actually going to kick out 18 miles," I preened. These observations, by the way, were part of my internal dialogue and not in my out loud voice.

And then something happened. What had been a distant feeling all morning kicked my butt just as I was preparing to begin the second half of the route. Let's just keep this short and sweet. . .a bladder infection. For the next 3 miles my only goal in walking, the only thought that occupied my head, the singular purpose of my existence, was simply to get to the next rest stop down the road, always requiring a long line behind gaggles, herds, and flocks of tourists.

Over the months I've been able to push through sore feet, blistered toes, aching backs, misbehaving shins, rebellious skin chaffing, and tight neck muscles but this one got me. At 12.36 miles at a 14:50 pace I called it a day and called a cab. Now I sit drinking cranberry juice while my internal drama queen is regally ensconched on her throne.

Tomorrow I'm walking an unscheduled 6 miles. While I fully realize that a 12.36 walk and 6 mile walk won't have the same benefit for my marathon training as a full 18 mile LSD, those 6 miles are mine and I'm going to get them. But first I need to get to the bathroom.