Then Sunday we strolled all over downtown Portland for our actual anniversary, Josh thinks about 4 miles. All that to say I took Monday off knowing I'd be back at my pace on Tuesday.
Cue ominous music...Tuesday. Sigh, sigh. sigh. I stretched, I rolled out my muscles with my "stick," I laced up my running shoes, I stepped out the door and made it precisely 3 sidewalk square lengths when the shin splints shot straight up both legs and I writhed in agonizing pain. But stoically (also read stupidly, but hey this is my post...) I limped and cried and writhed in agonizing pain for 1.66 miles cringing with every step, tears streaming down my clenched jaw. I didn't even get a 17 minute mile out of it.
So I did what any good runner does when they have 1 bad run. I quit running for good in my head. I beat the heck out of myself, told myself that Saturday's amazing run had been a fluke (regardless of all the good runs leading up to that one...) I looked in the mirror and I saw a failure. Told myself I would never run with my best friend and life partner on our fabulous trip. Got ready to post some asinine comment on google+ and then I saw a picture of an adorable baby gorilla--I kid you not! that actually happened:
(https://plus.google.com/u/0/117626995016997279347/posts Mitch Wagner)
And then this happened. I totally felt better. I kinda forgot why I was so upset. And I washed my running clothes instead of throwing them away. I was going to keep the shoes, cause I got a new pair and they are adorable (yes, and practical cause that is way more important then looking good while you run, but frankly they are rather spunky shoes).
Then today I stretched, I rolled out my muscles with my "stick", I selected a 14 minute mile coaching on my runkeeper app (Shameless plug cause I love that app. The lady coach is both the most encouraging and the most condescending and either way I pick up my pace when she speaks). AND Then I blew that goal out of the water with a 12 minute mile. Followed by buoyed spirits and a 13 minute mile walk with my dog (she had been rather dejected when I took off without her for my run).
I felt great, I looked in the mirror and I felt I could do it. I remembered my goal of a 5k on Labor Day. I felt like running another mile. Then I laughed (somewhat maniacally until I realized my kids were in the house) at that thought and chowed down a fried egg atop roasted sweet potatoes--man running tastes good.