It was back to the ol' grindstone this morning after my inexcusable two-day hiatus (I couldn't drag my lazy butt out of bed yesterday). I started out faster than my average pace; not surprising, considering my pent-up energy and last night's carb-fest. The first quarter mile was pure giddiness - I was grinning madly and even squeaked out an audible "YAY!" into the darkness. Unfortunately, by the end of the half-mile lap I was already tired and had to slow it down to normal. To finish off a great five miles, I brought up the pace for the last half mile and completed the lap in four minutes - a pace of 7.5 mph, which is AWESOME for me! I was elated (and breathing like a rhino)!

My very first race is coming up in just two weeks. It's a 5K, which is no big deal distance-wise, but I'd like to finish with a good time. If I can continue to push the intensity of my runs until then, I'm hoping to finish in less than 25 minutes. That's the goal, but it sounds almost impossible at this point. I've got a LOT of work to do!

Sound the trumpets, beat the drums - it's Friday, the most blessed workday of the week because our office closes at NOON. I've got the whole afternoon free to do whatever I want: namely, eat and nap. I also plan on going to the gym to do weight training and a short, fast run on the treadmill. Sub-25:00 5K, here I come!

Itchin' to get a move on it

The only thing running today was my nose. It's been raining BUCKETS since last night. We've literally gotten ten inches in the last 24 hours. Its beautiful and all, but I'm getting restless. Mom didn't pay the gym on time, which means I can't even run on the treadmill. What's more, some church members invited us to go out to eat with them tonight and I've now got a belly full of pasta. WHITE pasta. I'm disgusted with myself and can't even run off the guilt. At least I seriously restricted my calorie intake today, just in case, so I don't think I went over my calories, even with the pasta...and bread. WHITE bread!!! Restaurants are the devil.

Stupid rain. My alarm is set for 4:45 and it had better have stopped by then...OR ELSE.

Rain, rain...

I went to the track with the hubs tonight. He took off like a shot and settled in to my pace about a quarter mile in front of me so he could feel fast and manly. It started sprinkling, and we ran two miles before it was raining too hard and we had to leave.

My legs haven't recovered from yesterday. They are heavy as bricks and hurt like heck, but I tried to ignore them out there and enjoy the gorgeous misty evening. It worked. I've never run in the rain before...it's magic. If those weren't my only pair of running shoes I could have stayed much longer, but I've got an early morning run scheduled and soggy sneakers are NOT comfortable.

First (unofficial) Half Marathon!

Yesterday, after about 2 or 3 hours of restless sleep, I dragged my tired body out of bed for the week's much-anticipated long run. It was 4:20 a.m. I think I've only ever gotten up that early for traveling purposes or an early morning pee. As nobody under 75 is accustomed to being awake at such a God-forsaken hour, I fumbled about in a fog, barely able to get ready in my half-conscious state, and finally drove off, crusty-eyed, in my mom's van (my car is dead). I got to the predictably deserted track, walked a third of a mile to warm up, and started my run at 4:47.

My starting pace was average or maybe a few seconds slower. Average for me is 6mph (a 10-minute mile). Yes, I realize how slow that is, and I realize I need to drastically improve my pace if I want to run a sub-4:00 marathon - which I do. The good news is that I have almost 6 months to train for my first full marathon, by which time my average pace should be *knock on wood* 6.6 mph or faster. *GULP*

I will NOT be intimidated. Faster miles and longer distances sound daunting now, but I've really just got to take it one day at a time...right? After all, just over 4 months ago I didn't think I could ever run 2 miles without stopping. Anyway, back to my story.

Beverly arrived a few minutes before 6, with Alice arriving a few minutes after. These two will probably frequent my blog because they frequent the track where all of my running takes place. Here's what you need to know about them:

• They walk the track every morning to gossip about church folks and, as an added bonus, get some exercise.
• Beverly is fat and about my height.
• Alice is medium build and a midget's height.
• Both are old, as in over 60, though Beverly is considerably older.
• Alice looks exactly like Edna from Disney's "The Incredibles", so I refer to her as Edna is my own head, and now on this blog.
• Edna is RUDE. All I'm asking for is a little track etiquette! If a runner (me) is coming toward two people walking side by side(old ladies 1 & 2), it's polite for the one closest to the runner to move out of the way. Instead, Edna makes me jump off onto the grass at the last moment and almost twist my ankle or smash into her and almost knock her over. She'd probably have split her head on the cement if it weren't for her unnaturally low center of gravity.

As annoying as Edna is, I always feel a little better when I'm not all by myself in the pitch black. It was just the three of us for awhile, me sweating and them jabbering about pastors and sinning church members. As I came around finishing my seventh mile, I saw lights and a vehicle pulling out of the parking lot: my mom's van. My mom's van was driving away before my eyes. I looked at my parking spot - empty. My mom's van, where I had left the keys sitting right in the front seat for anybody to take, had been TAKEN. Then I saw my husband's car. Turns out I was stupid enough, at 4:30 in the morning, to take my mom's only means of transportation to work and she had to wake him up to drive her to get her van. In my defense, it felt like Sunday because I was off for Labor Day, and my mom doesn't work on Sunday. Okay fine, I'm a real idiot. Moving on.

Once assured that I hadn't gotten my mom's vehicle stolen, I set off again. 8 miles, then 9, 10. I was determined to run a half marathon, all 13 miles there alone at the track, with just God as my witness (old ladies had come and gone by then). I had run 12 miles the Sunday before, my longest distance ever. Before that, the farthest I'd run was 7 miles, so 12 was quite an accomplishment. I thought that surely one measly extra mile couldn't be much more difficult. I was wrong. After 11 miles, every step was agony. Pounding, pounding, pounding. Pain in my knees, pain in my ankles, and heavy, heavy legs. When had my normal bones been replaced with lead bones? I didn't sign up for this.

But folks, I did it. I finished those last two horrible miles. Honestly, I don't know how. They were pure torture. It was all psychological motivation that kept me going after that eleventh mile; determination and willpower alone completed my own personal Labor Day Half Marathon in 2:15. Much slower than I'd like, but I FINISHED. It's all about progress, and even though my time wasn't ideal, I pushed through fatigue and pain to go farther than I've ever gone. I'm SO proud of myself...and SO SORE. I think I need new shoes. :)