In my efforts to run from scratch, thanks to my gimpy tibia who felt the need to fracture and be a bitch, I hit the road for my longest run/walk in months. Six miles was on the agenda.
Sigh... I remember when six was considered a rest day. This time last year, I was hitting some serious mileage as I counted down the days to my first marathon. My, how times change. Now, Mendy the Hottie Neighbor and I are just hoping to FINISH the Rock n Roll Savannah half marathon next month. Her knee is being fickle, and my calf hasn't made up its mind whether it wants to cooperate yet.
Whine whine cry bitch fart whine... whatEVER. I laced up my trusty Asics and headed out for a proud six today. I'm walking for 3/4 each mile and running the last quarter. The wind was whipping, the rain was threatening, and I was LOVING it!!! I stopped for a couple of quick pics with our neighborhood pirates...
The high tide had them gasping for breaths! (And me too...)
I'm really not sure who looks better in this pic.
Six miles seemed like a serious chunk of effort and time, so I decided to change up my old route to trick my not-so-brainy brain into not worrying about the mileage. And it worked... thankfully.
Sure, at mile 2.5 I was not so subtly reminded by my bowels that I hadn't properly disposed of last nights wine and cheese... and at mile 3.5, I was a little frightened by the memory of last year's ASS CRAMP when I saw the exact spot where I buckled over and prayed for God's mercy as waves of pain rolled through my nether region...
I said a prayer of thanks that ass cramps are rare and kept on cruising.
Before I knew it, I was tootling my way through my fifth mile and feeling like I could have definitely done more.
It was lovely. Absolutely lovely. Boob sweat, slow ass pace, turtle pokin' and all.
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