After my glorious run on Wednesday, yesterday when I went out for my first ever 8 mile run, I was pumped. It was nearly 60 degrees, sunny, gorgeous. I all but sprinted from the house. Guess what happens when I start running at an almost sprint first thing out the door? That's right! My legs and lungs remind me - but quick - that I am an out of shape 34 year old who has no business pretending she's Meb Keflezighi. So half a mile into my run, I was forced to walk by a side stitch and maniacal breathing. Way to go, genius. I thought briefly about bagging the run entirely, but then I said "Ok, dummy, what if that happens during the Cherry Blossom? Whatcha gonna do then, smarty pants?" So I kept on trucking.
I managed the 8 miles. It was not skillfully done, and there were walking breaks, but I finished upright and smiling, and since that is not only my goal for the CB, but also for my upcoming (first ever!) half marathon, I'll take it. In the future, though, I would like to actually RUN 8 miles... and pretend I'm a really slow Meb. Or, better yet, a really slow Deena Kastor, since I doubt my husband would like it if I told him I wanted a sex change.