I did what I said I wouldn't do this year--another beach run. Bob was going for the ten, and he wanted me to go with him. I was going to catch some rays, and I just awoke from a 12-hour post mono slumberfest. I haven't run or worked out in three days. I can't wait to SHAKE THIS DAMN BUG.
Bob said I may as well run it, and I was not too keen about it. I injured my tendon last year doing the ten-mile. For some reason, sand and I don't a nice runner make. Bob enjoys the beach, says it "cushions" his stride. It is the opposite for me, usually I have a hard time navigating the eddies and inconsistencies.
I decided to do the five mile, and I did a mile warm-up to "feel out" how I was going to run. Was I going to race? Or was I just going to run? I just decided to do whatever my legs told me to do. I hit mile one at 8:38, and I panicked a little--but then I just told myself I wasn't going to look at any more mile markers, and I didn't. I kept my eyes downcast, and just enjoyed the beautiful weather. The sand was smooth, and I sailed through the race with minimum effort--finishing in 46:00...tying my five-mile PR.
Bob is adamant I don't go for the full marathon next weekend. I may have to concede and do the half. I guess I am putting all my marbles in the Pittsburgh Marathon. I got to be better by then, right? RIGHT???