Apparently, this is my recipe for an amazing long run: on Thursday feel ill, complete only 3 of 5 miles, and barely eat anything. Friday, stay out late eating gooey cheese, crackers, and chocolate, and oh yeah, drinking too much wine. Get up at 6 am (grghhmrmr) on Saturday to make it to pool practice by 7:15; afterwards devour three ginormous slices of French toast slathered in butter and syrup. Then change, go running, and finish thirteen miles in 1:58:08, a pace of 9:05. (!) And, except for the French toast jostling around and making its presence known, feel great doing it. WTF?
I have no idea why I felt so good - the only thing I can think of is that it seems like my body finally "got" it. Particularly after I turned at the half-way point, all the mechanics came together. I felt fluid, comfortable. I was leading with my hips and letting them set the pace (apparently the pace they wanted was 'fast'), which led to my feet falling more softly. I walked yesterday and took a yoga class. I feel so good. I hope that when I run tomorrow I'll find that it wasn't just a one-off deal. I hope that I've turned a corner in my running and I can find more peace than struggle moving forward.
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I hope your next run felt as good! Those are the days we live for, when it all comes together. Thanks for letting me know you've been reading - we'll be at Yakima too. We'll have to look for each other in the morning. Check out the Maniac group, I'll be one of those in yellow (vest or singlet). You picked a good one for your first - it's pretty in an Eastern WA kind of way!
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