(cue the harp and squiggly lines onscreen)
We were training to run a marathon in Dublin, Ireland for the Arthritis Foundation. Every saturday morning, I'd make the long drive from Eagle Rock to Brentwood to train with the group. The coaches would separate us into different groups based on our fitness level and experience. I was running in the group with two other guys, or "the advanced group" and my wife was told to join us. I wanted her to feel welcome, so I told her to set the pace. I thought I was being nice. If you ask my wife, she'll tell you that she thought I was being a wise ass. I wasn't trying to be. Honest! I really just wanted her to feel like she was being accepted. She demurred, but I persisted. Finally, she accepted the offer, put her headset on and ran ahead of us. I remember thinking that was kind of a dick move. Well, the advanced group was somewhat accustomed to finishing each run with a bit of a kick. That run was no different. We did the kick, and passed her within the last mile (after she apparently killed herself to stay ahead of us). That's how we met.
And to think she actually married me.
Anyway, I ran that same route yesterday, and enjoyed the trip down memory lane.
It was the only thing I enjoyed on that run. Sometimes, you feel like crap, but push through that feeling. You stay with it, and down the road, you're rewarded by feeling a lot better, and kickin' ass. Yesterday there was no ass kickin'. After 2 miles, I knew I just had to gut out the next 9. The first 5 1/2 miles were all uphill, and when I turned around to run downhill, the wind buffeted me.
And from the "More-Information-Than-You-Needed- File", my left nipple got pretty chafed. Ouch.
So it looked like this:
11 miles in 1:32:57
Av: 8:27/mi 151 bpm Heart Rate
1158 calories burned
Lap 1: 47:10
Lap 2: 45:46
Bonus points for making it a negative split.