I woke up at 1p.m. this afternoon from the manfriend calling to ask if I was alive. (Apparently I sent a text message during the night that said I was dying?) After moping around for another two hours, I finally decided to get up and try to have a normal day.
And by my standards, you know, it's totally normal to go for a 5-mile run after puking your guts out.
I kept thinking last night, while my head was in the toilet, that I needed to run today because it was my first "pace" run for marathon training. For those who can't figure out the self-explanatory phrase, a pace run is when I run at the per-minute-mile pace in which I expect to finish the marathon. My regular pace for short- to middle-distance runs, with my regular effort, is between an 8:15- and an 8:30-minute mile in clear conditions. After talking with my fitness trainer, he has suggested I try slowing to a 9-minute mile pace since I'll be adding on considerably more miles in the coming months. Running with a slower overall pace should help conserve energy to make it through the longest runs and the race, and hopefully avoid that infamous "wall." I thought it would be fun to slow down a little bit as it means I won't get so tired, but I quickly learned it's very hard to control your natural stride.
I set Mr. Anastos to alert me when I went faster than a 9-minute mile pace and slower than an 11-minute mile pace. I never had an issue of going too slow, but he did yell at me every few seconds with his corny chime, the screen blinking, "Slow down!"
I headed down to Lake Calhoun and saw plenty of people kiteboarding, ice fishing, skiing, and playing with their dogs on the lake...
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I still get awestruck during a lot of my runs. There are moments of such beauty near the water in Minneapolis, even in winter, and even as the sun is going down and it's getting cold.
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5.13mi splits: 9:27, 9:52, 9:13, 9:13, 9:22, 1:15
Air Temp: 28F
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