Nine Felt...

As I was composing this blog thread in my head during Saturday's long run (running for miles at a time can get a little boring...), I was thinking it would be titled "Nine Felt Fine."

And it's true: The first eight miles of Saturday's nine-mile run DID feel fine. Unfortunately, the last mile kicked my butt. I even uttered an expletive or two toward the very end when it seemed like that last mile marker would never come into view. I was especially thankful for the ID tag recently affixed to my shoe since I figured someone could use it to identify me when I collapsed to the ground in a heap. (Editor's note: This is a bit of an exxageration. At no point was my life ever in danger.) I am not exxagerating when I say that I could barely walk for the rest of the day. I did feel fine by Sunday though.

I've spent the last few days trying to figure out why nine miles was so hard. I've come up with a list of possible explanations:

1. I barely got any sleep Friday night.
2. I hadn't done a long run in two weeks.
3. I came down with a wicked, wicked cold on Sunday afternoon and was already starting to feel "off" on Saturday.
4. I did the second half of the nine-mile run 15 minutes faster than the first half, so maybe I just went a little too fast on the run back in.
5. I have not been training hard enough and should not expect to finish my upcoming ten-mile race.

Let's hope it's reasons 1–4, because the ten-miler is this Sunday.

Of course, I think back to my first four-mile "long" run in January--which I also ran with a wicked cold. I remember that run kicking my ass and telling Dean that I didn't know how I'd ever finish ten miles if I couldn't even do four. And, well, four miles is a cake walk now--even with the cold from hell.

Good to Know: Ella was promoted to "Ray" this past weekend at swimming lessons! WTG Ella.

Also Good to Know: Sadie peed in the potty twice yesterday.

Note to the person who wanted to log a bet on my time for this Sunday's race: Not. Going. To Happen. Not this year, anyway.