So I was pretty freaked about my long run last week. The unknown...it can be a little unnerving, can't it?
I didn't sleep well. I set my alarm for 4:15 to eat a little, drink some water, and take some Imodium (don't ask), then I went back to sleep, or what might pass for sleep, until 5:40. I had many nightmares of the running variety...making everyone wait, missing the meeting place or time, running in strange places.
And then I woke up, strapped on my watch and did it. Not only did I do it, I kind of blew my expectations out of the water. I kept my pace slow enough that I made it to sixteen miles instead of the fourteen I'd planned and didn't even feel wiped out.
Dang. It was really cool.
So last night I wasn't as freaked. And today Liz and I hit seventeen, including some wicked hills, and I picked up the pace just a teeny bit.
It was really cool.
I think a little fear never hurts. It kind of keeps things interesting, anyway, and it lets me know that I'm trying something new, something a little out of my comfort zone.
So hooray for you, fear. I'll be expecting you the night before the marathon. And then we'll have to figure out another way to shake things up, because, well, I'd rather hang with a little fear than a lot of boredom.