Eight miles, maybe nine, if i felt good. That's what I said when we headed out for our run yesterday. Technically, per training, I should have been on nine, but we didn't get out last weekend, which should have been eight. I don't really know how much it matters when I got up to ten a month and a half ago. I would like them to be more comfortable miles, so I figure following the training plan is still the best way to do that.
Except we ran ten miles. And not because I felt good. Somewhere I just decided that if I was going to run eight, I should run nine. And as I thought about where I was finding nine miles running around me neighborhood, I thought, 'If this ends up being even nine and a quarter miles, I might as well find ten.'
Remember how I said I would run nine "if I felt good"? I did not feel good. I love running with Henri, but he was Mr. Professional Poop Finder. Dog, goose, probably other animals, if it was there, he found it, needed to stop and sniff it an pee on it. Apparently, people decided they didn't need to pick up after their dogs while there was the little bit of snow on the ground, which is annoying in and of itself, but to have to stop every time he caught the scent of some...again, I love running with him, but the stop and go was killing me.
We got into a good groove by mile three. Knowing we were coming up on halfway (to eight or nine) I started to anticipate and map out the rest of the run. The idea of a figure eight helped keep Henri from thinking I had lost our way as we passed through the same place, but running through the park a second time was maybe a mistake as far as momentum goes. I knew I was going to struggle, but the decision was made. We were running nine, probably ten, because I probably could.
I mean, of course I could, right? It just might not be pretty. While Henri might make it difficult with his stop and go and poop sniffing, he helps to keep me going when I need him. Again, I love running with him.
So, we ended up running ten miles for the second time. We also shaved four minutes off our time! I mean, we weren't running into the wind for the last five miles, so that might have something to do with that.
The last three miles were not the strongest, except in the fact that I pushed through and I ran them. Why didn't I stop at eight or nine? Because I knew I could do more.
And I was right.