I did it. I ran my longest distance up here in these crazy mountains. I had plotted out yet another route at the bottom of the hill, but paying $4.79 for each gallon of gas just to get me there scared me more than the prospect of exploding lungs and legs of jello. So, after looking at my bank account ‘just to make sure I couldn’t swing it,’ (who am I kidding? There’s nothing in there) – I suited up and just did it.
I figured my route out to be approx 11.5 miles. I was adding 2 miles onto my 9.6 run from last week. Or so I thought. Skip ahead to the end of my run when I took out my GPS and saw that I had instead gone 13 miles. whoops. It wasn’t my intention to run race-distance before the big day, but I guess I’ll take it. I still have 3 weeks to taper down and rest my legs. I was pleased to see that a. My average pace was better than my long run down at sea level last year and b. I didn’t want to die (as much as last time) during certain hellish points in my route. My left knee was causing me pain, as was my right hip. I think I oughtta stretch those areas more thoroughly before I go out and do something like this again. This body ain’t used to these hills. I’m getting there, though, (very) slowly but surely. Anyhow, this post is mostly so that when I tell myself I can’t do it, I can look back at this and know that I did and I can.