Ten and Two

I had planned on doing a twelve miler tomorrow. I get off work early on Fridays, so it gives me time to finish before dark.

While arranging my schedule, I decided to get the twelve done before the long weekend (my dedicated writing weekend, see writing blog). So last night, I split up my twelve into a ten and a two.

I changed after work (my usual routine), and ran the downtown St. Pete waterfront route that I love. Beforehand, I planned to do eight miles. Because it would be getting dark by the time I finished, I would leave and run four more around the park near my house.

Something happened, an extremely rare occurrence for me. I felt so good that I decided to keep going and do ten miles. Thank you, Jesus, for those moments! It makes me feel like a real runner.

As my last blog showed, more often I have to do LESS mileage than I plan, and walk when I don't plan on it.

There were probably a hundred people running along the waterfront, which makes me happy. Run, St. Pete, run! The weather was much cooler than I thought it would be with a nice breeze. I was in the zone, as people say. I even sped up the last mile, finishing in under two hours. For me, that's huge.

I got home where sweet hubby was running out to get food to make us dinner. I only had two miles left. No biggie. Took a bathroom break, sipped some water, ready to go.

As soon as I got outside and started moving, my body shut down. It was as if I spent every last ounce of energy on the ten miler. My legs were on fire. My limbs were not cooperating. I trudged through my neighborhood, around the park, and back. Luckily, it was dark by then because I'm sure I wasn't a pretty sight.

Pain, pain, more pain. At home, lots of stretching and groaning.

The entire ten miles felt like a breeze compared to the final two. How weird is that? Of course, hubby pointed out that I got in the car and drove home, allowing my legs to stiffen. It actually makes sense, but I didn’t anticipate those last two being so hard. Granted, there is no such thing as “only two” in my Anti-Running book, even if I haven’t done ten miles beforehand.

But it's done.

Today is our four-year anniversary (yay!). I will be at Melting Pot with hubby enjoying every last drop of cheese and chocolate fondue. Hey, why run if not for the food?


  1. At least you got to enjoy part of the run before you stiffened up. Those moments are too rare for me too.

  2. Is it bad that I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one with rare fun-run moments?


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