We had a nice 2-miler last night (it was supposed to be a 3-miler, but we both pooped out before we reached the 1.5-mile mark, so we cut it short). It was pretty warm, so I didn't have the same pep in my step that I have during a.m. runs, but overall I felt awesome. The only thing I'm a little disappointed with is my speed. Of course, some of that is because I have brought Kona on the last few runs and we take multiple potty breaks. (If he's dawdling, I tell him This marathon ain't gonna run itself, you know. Then I start doing the can-can. Yes, the can-can. Don't ask me why, but it gets him moving again. Something about seeing your Short Human Caretaker kicking like a Radio City Rockette must trigger the fight-or-flight response in the canine brain.) I also haven't run any distance greater than 2 miles in the last few months, so I want to know that I haven't "lost it."
Well. We already know I've "lost it." Yuk yuk yuk.
Tomorrow is the RunNona 5k, which is my first race in about 4 months, on the first day of a very special month. Every November I celebrate my birthday for the entire month. I figure, why spend one day bemoaning how I'm clinging to my 20's by the skin of my teeth when I can celebrate my newfound perspective for 30 days? This year, I'm kicking off the month with a 5k.
I hate 5ks.
I hate them for the same reason I hate sprint-distance triathlons: it's all about pushing hard to go fast. By the time I get my pace, the race is over. If I ever get my pace - because I don't like pain.
But tomorrow I'm just going to have to suck it up, because my ex-husband is also racing. And I taught him everything he knows. I Can't Let let That Bastard Beat Me.
At least not by a lot.
Today: at least 2 miles of walking.
Tomorrow: the 5k and following athletes at IM FL.
Sunday: 6-8mi LSD.
Next week: the world.