Last week’s 11 miler was tough for two reasons.
1. The weather kind of sucked and the last .5 was into a pretty significant headwind.
2. We went out waaaaay too fast and kind of died toward the end.
This week we did better with pacing – it was much more consistent – it just wasn’t as fast as it needed to be to hit my goal time. (Which, for the record, I will not be crushed if I come in slower than I’d like. My primary goal is to cross the finish line with a smile on my face.) With the imminent arrival of Aunt Flo and the fact that I didn’t get enough sleep, drink enough water, or eat enough carbs last night/yesterday, I’ll take it.
It is a good feeling (OK, I’m lying. It’s a GREAT feeling.) to be sitting on my couch, drinking coffee, warm and cozy (and clean) and knowing I ran TWELVE MILES this morning. I’ll run a couple times this week with the running club, run 8 next Saturday, a couple more days the week after, then it’s race day. Soooo close.
Right around Christmas is when I started playing with the idea of doing a spring half. My previous two have been fall races and I wanted to see what training through the winter would be like. (Verdict: I much prefer it to training through the summer.) I also wanted to do a race before I get pregnant again. I knew jumping into a training plan after not really running much for the previous 18 months was a fairly bad idea, especially for the injury-prone (ahem, me), but…but. I felt like I needed to train and run a half. Fortunately for me Mr. Awesome lives up to his name. Fortunately for me my dad is a saint. (Except he’s not Catholic. Or dead.) That whole thing about how it takes a village? True.