I feel like I come up with a million things I want to write in my head, but then time slips away.
Not much to report.
It's still hot here. Very hot. Even at 5 a.m., it's often over 80 when I run, and unfortunately this last week or so, it's even been over 80% humidity. Brutal!
We actually had a gloriously cold morning last week Thursday -- mid-60s to start the run and then after we'd been going about 2 or 3 miles ... rain! It was unbelievable! I had considered wearing a hat but decided not to, hoping it would jinx me to have a wet face and it worked. It was a hill loop day, and I hope I always remember how I felt on my first loop up Shook (for anyone in Dallas), about 2/3 of the way up, at the big break in the trees, when I turned my face straight up into the rain. I wanted to sing it felt so good! My friends kept saying things like they hoped it held for the weekend, but I knew better -- it was a gift from the gods to be taken at face value, a one-time gift, not to be repeated, and so I knew better than to even hope for more and just tried to appreciate the one blessedly cool and rainy August morning.
I was definitely right. By Sunday morning for my long run, it was miserable. Perhaps even more humid than before, but regardless, it felt about 100 times worse.
So no surprise that I had one of the worst long runs to date this past weekend. It was supposed to be 17 miles with 5 at pace. I did about 9 miles easy, then started my pace work. A bit too fast on the first 2 miles (8 seconds, then 14 seconds), but both miles were slight downhills, and close enough for government work. Mile 3 was about 26 seconds too fast, which is well outside my acceptable range. And at the end of that mile, I was toast. I slowed down by more than a minute on that next mile but per the data, my heart rate didn't drop at all. Yikes! And then the following mile was another 30 seconds slower and my heart rate still didn't come down! Aye, aye, aye. A lot of people struggled that morning, so I had plenty of company on my suck bus. There was some walking involved, but more than that, there were lots of pitifully slow miles (at least by my current standards for myself, likely perfectly acceptable in another decade or so).
I admit I was not set up for success going into the run. I was the victim? recipient? beneficiary? honoree? of a surprise party the night before. My husband is so bad at secrets that it was quite surprising this worked. Apparently during many of my business trips of late, he's been having dinner with my local bestie to plan it. It was awesome. Out-of-towners, party favors, table decorations, and all. I was shaken and touched at the same time. It was a fun night, despite the fact that I was probably alone in my level of sobriety -- he was convinced it was fine since there were other runners at the party; he failed to realize they are all training for marathons much later than mine and had significantly fewer miles the next day, starting 30 minutes later than me. Oh well, I'm not complaining. It was so much fun!
So that's it from here. Ticking along. Working. Work traveling (though no work travel this week or next!). Eating out and celebrating far too much. Running. No complaints!