Every once in a while I have moments that hit at completely inappropriate times and between mile 7 and mile 8 I had an insecurity attack.
It was a gorgeous morning for a run. Warm enough but with a nice cool breeze (that turned into a hand-of-god smackdown at the very end). The first 6 miles were fun. I felt comfortable, was pushing a little but not so much that I figured I'd pay for the effort. We had left gatorade at the end of the driveway so after the first hour we knew there'd be a way to rehydrate a little.
Then, the clouds started to threaten. And this hills - which I had already successfully run once! - seemed a little bit. . .BIGGER. Then, my stomach decided that it was unhappy.
And, DH, who was generously running his second 12 miler of the week solely in order to keep me company, looked at his watch.
This meant to me that OBVIOUSLY he couldn't wait to be done and oh by the way we still have something like 5 miles left and I'm uncomfortable and I can't talk to him because there's another freakin' hill. . .
Yeah. The spiral there was fun to watch. I'm sure of it.
Somehow I managed to calmly explain to him that I felt bad about making him go so slow. . .blah blah blah. I did manage to say it was my insecurities acting up. . .
And, bless his heart, he understood.
When we hit the very last hill at 11 1/2 miles in to the run and the wind was making me feel like I was running backwards and I just. couldn't. run. anymore. up. . .he held my hand and walked with me.
We walked to the crest and then ran the last .2 into the driveway.