When it all goes wrong on race morning, it can still go very, very right.
I don’t drive around downtown unless I have to. I live in a small town on the outskirts, and if I had it my way I’d live even farther, well…out. I am not a city girl. Never have been, never will be. I’m uncomfortable rockin’ skirts (unless it’s a running skirt, then I can totally pull it off), and I never really learned to walk in high heels (I can fake it but I look like a drunk penguin trying to do the truffle shuffle) and I have a rule about never wearing heels when I drink, because the damn things are hard enough to wear sober. Give me flip-flops and jeans, and I can do anything!
My distaste for downtown driving was reinforced very early Sunday morning. If you follow my training logs at all, you’ve realized by now that I am not a high volume runner. Twenty five miles is a high volume week for me, and I’m okay with that. I seem to have avoided overtraining, and I rarely have a run that I’m not looking forward to. After the 30K race two weeks ago, and last weekend’s 20 mile long run, I was ready for a nice 13.1; it seemed like a break. So I was in a good mood when I left the house at 4:45 Sunday morning, and I was still in a good mood an hour later when I was getting close to the race venue. Read more >>