ie., my long run this weekend.
Saturday morning I had plans of running 10 miles. The first sign of trouble was when my running partner for the day (Tom) had to be practically dragged out of the house.
|This is not the face that greeted me at 5:30am.|
My stomach started to hurt once we left the house, but I figured it would pass.
My dinner from the night before came back to haunt me. Tom & I made it 3 miles before having to call it quits.
So, fail #1. I decided I would tackle 8 miles on Sunday morning instead to make up for it.
Sunday started off good enough. I was trucking along at a pretty good pace my first mile. I didn't want to look down at my Garmin to check (didn't want to psyche myself out), so I waited until it beeped to signal I was done with the first mile.
And the beep never came. So I looked down and what do you know - I had forgotten to start it.
So I had to stop and fiddle with my Garmin - losing the groove I had.
The remaining 7 miles were a complete joke. It was like my legs had never heard of this thing called "running" and that we hadn't been doing it for the past 5 months. I could barely make it a quarter of a mile before having to stop and walk.
If I didn't laugh about how pathetic it was, I would have been crying. Fail, fail, fail.
I have two more weekends of long runs before the big race. My legs better wake up and remember what the heck they are supposed to do!!