I have FINALLY got my running groove back. Could be the spring weather. Could be the emails of "X days left until your half marathon". Could be that I really do love it and was made for it like I swore I was when I hit 10 miles back in October. Okay. Yes, it wasn't 10. It was something like 9.93, but by the time I figured out the map I was half stripped down due to sweating that I had no desire to go back and finish the rest of the .07 so I say 10. Go run 9.93 miles. You'll say 10 too.
NO I haven't hit 10. Or 9 or even 8. I hit somewhere above 6 a while back and hit 6 this weekend. And felt GOOD. And did it in a GOOD pace. So that matters at this point more than the 8 or 9. I lost my mileage and my speed (well-it's MY speed) when snow fell. There are certain things I have noticed about upping my mileage as well. I can spit like my dad used to spit. For whatever crazy reason I was always in awe of his perfect aim. I know. I am weird. Well, I got it. Maybe not quite like him. I have yet to hit the leaf or twig I aim at, but it is so much closer than my usual of the spit hitting just outside my lips and getting lost somewhere between my cheek and ear. And my husband thinks I am so sexy cause I run. I don't think it's the spit aim. Probably more the silky tight running pants I wear. I hope anyway.
I also realized there are runners who are not part of the clique. Gasp! I know, right?! Yeah the ones who run right past you like you do not exist. They must think they're better than me. Or maybe I am just so fast I intimidate them. Yeah, that must be it. At that moment I am super speedy. Cause all the other runners I pass see me and wave or do that real stiff, practiced head nod. Yeah, we know how to show some respect. I especially love the ones who run past on the opposite side and leave a sweet smelling aura like they had to have just stepped out of the shower and bathed in a field of roses. One can only dream I smell that awesome as they pass me cause when I stop, I sure do not smell roses. Maybe dead ones. That sat in a car. For like 10 years.
Running is my release. I pray. I think about life. I choke up sometimes and have to stop thinking about life. It's okay. I am red-faced anyway. No one notices. I seriously feel that if everyone started running they would love it as much as me. I was never a runner either so they would have to, right? Then I need to remind myself that is not the case and no one that doesn't run doesn't want to hear about my pace time. Or the horrible side cramp I got at mile 3. Or how I felt like I was going to crap my pants at mile 4 and at mile 5 I wouldn't be able to tell you if I really did or not (for the record I have never, but man that would be hardcore). Only my husband seems somewhat interested in hearing those details. It must be the sexy pants that I am usually still wearing when I go off on what I like to call "a runner tangent". He is thoroughly impressed. Always.
So I started my half-marathon training last week for the 3rd time. Then this week I missed the first 2 workouts. I could run the next 3 days and get them in but that would be insane. Yes. I like that idea ;)