Running

So two weeks ago, I had literally the worst 14 mile run of all time.  I dragged in, almost walking.  It could have been the heat, it could have been my eating, it could have been just a bad run, a really bad run.  Then last weekend, I was so demoralized and hoping for lightning that I just stayed in bed and ran a sad three or four miles at home.  THEN, this week, I worried all week about my big run.  I just worried worried worried about my 16 miler.  I knew that I would fall behind the group, feel like I couldn't make it, and just peter out.

My run, however, was pretty great.  I hoofed a quick 11 miles in the hills and then tacked on another 4.5 miles (I had to stop early, because I ran out of time) and got in a really solid run.  I enjoyed running with the group and I enjoyed my time on my own.  I ate lemony Power Bar gels and it was all lovely.

Here is the shame of my run.  It is pretty snobby and I will just tell you know that I am not proud.  Our running group stopped at a local public golf course to use the bathroom, grab some water and whatnot. When we emerged from the clubhouse, there was an impala (car) with the head of a snake airbrushed on the side.  It was just so trashy looking and it did not merit comment, but I felt it necessary to snarkily inquire amongst my running group if anyone was missing their car, then took the extra time to point out the cobra.  The driver was, OF COURSE, sitting in the passenger seat and MOST LIKELY, heard every word I said.  I am officially a terrible person.  The terriblest person of all.