They say there’s a certain euphoric feeling that comes over runners when they hit that first 10-mile run.
I did today.
No euphoria.
Just tired legs and feet.
I think I’ll feel better about it tomorrow.
On Saturday my intention was to do 10-miles. I got to three. My legs were tired. (They call it “tired leg syndrome” on running blogs.)
“I’ll try again tomorrow,” I told my husband when he came to pick me up near the three-mile mark.
Getting out of bed and getting it done was a tougher challenge. But I did it. I got up and ran. The first four miles were tough. Miles six, seven and eight weren’t bad.
Miles nine and 10 were slow and agonizing.
My time sucked. My goal here isn’t just to finish the 13.1 miles in June, but to do it in a somewhat timely fashion. Why? Thomas will be waiting. I need to get faster.
So I keep running. I keep putting one foot in front of the other.
And today I got to 10. Training blogs tell me that 10 should be the longest I run before a 13.1 mile race.
I’m hoping to run my own style of personal half-marathon before then, though.
Faster is the goal. For today, though, finishing was just fine.
