I remember not that long ago I went out to run a half marathon.
I hadn't trained for it. I just woke up on Wednesday as a person who goes running because she likes to run, and on Saturday I ran a 10 minute PR on a hilly course. I didn't question my ability to run 13.1 miles. I'm a runner. Of course I can run 13.1 miles.
So how did I go from there, a month ago, to here, a month later?
Here is a place where I dropped my mileage for a week and am now dreading my long run next week. Today I actually thought, "oh, I hope I can make the miles."
What. The. Feck?
It's as though my zen state of running that I achieved over the month of May has been completely extinguished by the act of registering to run another RVA Marathon.
I enjoyed being unencumbered by a training plan. I enjoyed just running because it was Tuesday and we run for an hour on Tuesdays. I need to recapture that freedom to run, but still follow a plan.
I ran naked. ~without a garmin~
And clear. ~in just a sports bra~
And hot. ~at 7 a.m. in N.C.~
Alone. ~sans posse~
And it felt really good. Almost naughty. To run that free. ~gasp~ she pulls her hand up over her parted mouth... did anyone see? No one who mattered saw, or judged. And maybe because no one could see, and therefor no one could judge, I added an extra mile to the well known route.
Solo-Naked-Clear-Hot running. Hopefully it's a good recipe for Run Love.
~savor the run~