Fidgety runs.

Yesterday evening I ran 5 miles. It was the first time I tried to run a sub 9 minute pace this year, and the first time I’ve ever run at sunset in the city.

The night time gear I came with

First off, the little clip light I brought fell within 30 meters of the start. Not good. I blame myself, in part, because I clipped it to the bottom of my shorts. I’ll try it again and secure it better. I strapped the reflectors to my ankles, and almost immediately moved one to my right wrist, anticipating some chafing. I took the other one off. The headlamp never made it out of my car.

3/4 of a mile into my run our group hit a stoplight. I like stoplights. You can sneak little breakup exercises into your run and hit the water bottle. I usually work my knees. Stretch or lunge, whichever I feel would be best. Good thing we paused, too. We were going way too fast for me, hitting a near 7:30 pace, and I knew I had to fall back or I would not finish.

It was upon this realization that I got distracted and forgot to unpause my tracker. I kept right on going at what I thought was a 9 minute per mile pace. My philosophy is, even if it is not recorded, it still counts! Eventually my tracker told me I was exercising and offered to record what was happening. So, naturally, I accidentally hit the “stop” button, further failing to track my run. I, readers, am a silly person.

At the three mile mark we rested and got our wits about us. All of us in the group that I fell back into were unfamiliar with the route. So out came the maps! I am eternally grateful for runners who know their area, because I would have been lost about 3 times were it not for a native that was in my group that knew how to read directions better than I did.

The final two miles of our run were punctuated by stops and even featured a closed road detour. On the final half mile I wanted to finish strong, because it was mostly downhill. I pulled out ahead, thinking I could finish at least in second out of our little group. Nope. Some nausea nailed me at the bottom of the bridge. Dang. “I WILL STILL FINISH!” I proclaimed, and rode an easier pace down to the finish. It felt good. I was in doubt about my abilities for a little bit afterwards, but the facts were still there. Despite my bumbling, I finished. That is always the primary goal.


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