I Just Want My Juice Back

Blue Ridge Marathon stole my juice.

I told you Running the Blue Ridge Double is Like Getting Jumped Into a Gang. Apparently, it also steals all your juice.

BRM is like a really mean gang that won’t even leave you a little juice to sip on while you nurse your wounds back to health.

It’s been four weeks. I am 29 days out from the Blue Ridge Double and running has been … unsatisfying.

I tried and failed to run trails with friends last Sunday. I tried and failed to run long by myself yesterday.

So, today I tried again. I went out into my neighborhood in search of my juice.


I didn’t find it.

My goal was 10 miles.

It was hot and humid. Tourists are out, so there was a lot of high speed car dodging. And there are some intense hills in my hood.

I allowed myself to walk every single one of them without shame and then forced myself to run the rest of it, not even allowing myself to stop and pet the neighborhood dogs or chat with the horses or wander into someone’s home in search of water. I should really carry water on my runs. I didn’t even slow down to wave to my mom when I passed her at the pool. I was rude to my poor, sweet mom.

I blame Blue Ridge.

I was 8 miles in at that point and if I stopped for even a moment, I wasn’t going to finish those last 2. Because my juice was still nowhere to be found.

By the time I hit 9.8, I was officially done. I was ready to concede and just walk the rest of it.

But then some dudes in a pick up drove by and slowed way down to either admire the really hot runner chick or gawk at the old lady that looked to be on the verge of death. I’m leaning toward the latter. In my younger years, I would have assumed the former and been flattered. Today, I was just annoyed. Because my runner imposter syndrome doesn’t allow me to walk when people are driving by. I have to continue running until they are safely out of sight, thus giving the impression that I’m a real runner.

I’m not the only one that does this, right? Ease up and walk until I hear a car engine or catch a glimpse of another runner coming around the corner, and then start running again like I’ve totally had this the whole time. This can’t possibly just be me, right?

So, it’s possible I said something really offensive in a really unattractive way to pick up truck dudes.

I’d apologize here, but they didn’t strike me as the type to follow my blog. I don’t think we’re friends in real life. We definitely won’t be now.

But by the time they went around the next corner, I’d already hit 10 miles so it was time to stop anyway.

I’m still resentful.

So, I didn’t find my juice out there this morning. I imagine if I ever do find it again, it’s gonna come in the form of a sippy cup. And be, like, the really gross unsweetened apple flavor or something you give babies that you don’t want to get addicted to sugar and that don’t know the difference anyway or know that you’re torturing them, but they’ll find out when they’re 12 and at a friend’s house and then they’ll hate you forever.

No juice for me.

But I did find a little hope.


I planned to run 10 miles this morning and for the first time in 4 weeks, I achieved my mileage goal.

It was nowhere near the pace I was shooting for, but I’ll take what victories I can get at this point.

Two weeks until Conquer the Cove. I actually spent most of today’s run thinking about that 3 mile climb right in the middle of the 25k. It was not motivating. It seems impossible right now.

So, obviously, bring it on.

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