Today I decided to not flirt with disaster. The wind chill was even worse than yesterday, and I was having to talk myself into running, which is a prime situation in which to make a very serious mistake. After making my decision, Lumpy told me that he had been tossing around the idea of talking me out of my run today, as well. Great minds…
I am running three 20 milers during this training, and I’m thinking ahead, for the first time in my “running career.” Feels right. I’d rather kick the 20 milers rear ends than hurt myself doing the 17.
Ran yesterday with The Lump for the last 8 of his 13. I felt bad because I apparently have gotten faster (thank you, Tucker), and I kept pushing his pace. Not what he needed on a -25°F day. My apologies. It was quite interesting, cold, and fun - for me, at least. I had a few brief moments of panic when I first started running. Guinness, of course, had to stop a few times, I had to stop to use the port-o-potty , etc., and my feet got really, really cold. Once I got going again, they were fine, but I had quite an initial scare, and will take care not to let THAT happen again.
Once again, we celebrate our weekly long run/non-run/crappy run/any run we remember having done in the past, with champagne. So, once we pop the cork, here’s to the wisdom to know what disaster is, how to avoid it, keeping warm, and knowing that the road ahead will be full of even more challenge, and in my case, three 20 mile training runs that are begging to get smacked around and told who’s boss.
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