Bad runs happen to everyone. No one is exempt. In fact, if you think back, you’ll remember your worst run in great detail — because you never want it to happen again. The good news: you learned something! The bad news: it’s going to happen again, but maybe — hopefully — for different reasons.
I polled some fellow Bad Angels about this, and they didn’t hesitate to recall their epic fails:
Oh yeah! I was out for an 18-miler with Keith before Chicago and ran out of water on the trail. We had to walk/run to finish. I had to tell myself repeatedly, “It won’t be this hot on race day.” — Dave
The final two miles of my first-ever 18-miler, I decided to get home from the Lakefront Trail by running down North Avenue in Chicago during the Old Town Arts Fest. There were people EVERYWHERE, and I had to stop for every single stoplight. And I could barely get my legs moving again. I cried the entire last mile and then stood outside my apartment crying for about 10 minutes because I was convinced there was NO WAY I could finish an entire marathon. — Mags
I was out for a 20-miler, ran out of water and had to walk the last four miles. Took me over an hour to walk those final miles. — Doug
One of my worst runs was a 10-miler in Kenwood. When we left at noon, it was 95 degrees out. Crying inside the CVS Pharmacy said it all. I still remember Doug looking at me during the last mile and forcing us to walk it in. — Amie
My first long run of my first marathon, I was training with my husband, Keith. We got to mile eight of our 10-mile run, and I just bonked. I’d never bonked before. So I cried. And then Keith told me there was no way I was ever going to finish a marathon. So I cried some more, and finished. Slowly. — Aidz
Epic fails build character. They remind us that we are human, and to take our training seriously. They also help us appreciate those good runs when we feel like we could conquer the world.
Can you remember your worst run like it was yesterday (or maybe, it literally was yesterday)? Tell us about it. And here’s hoping that the next one is a little easier on you. — Amie