Last night my friend Nate talked me into running in the gym so we could work out together. Of course, everyone knows how I HATE treadmill running, but I'm at the point where I HAVE to get my milage up OR ELSE.
So I went.
I did a little over 6 miles at an 11.3 min/mile pace (5 miles including a little over 1 warmup mile), but I swear to God I thought I was going to die. It's a completely different ball game than running outside, and I've really avoided treadmill running this entire season.
I really had to force myself to do it. I was feeling like dying. And I expected the run to make me feel better, but it didn't. I now have to figure out how to get in 9 miles today since I overslept . . . still trying to figure out my fucking alarm.
The whole time, I keep thinking, FOUR MORE WEEKS AND I'M NOT OFFICIALLY TRAINING FOR ANYTHING.
And . . . . PHILLY OR BUST!
And judging by the 6 miles on the tread tonight, it's gonna be UGLY! But you know what? We don't care if it's ugly. We'll take it!