The irony of my first long(ish) training run back in the “real world” (as opposed to the “unreal world” that is February in central New York) happening during a snow shower is not lost on me.
The 9 on Sunday morning was pleasant enough, albeit super cold and punctuated by ice-pelting-wind. Yuk. I’m seriously not far enough south. Seriously.
And I joked my new running mates about how they both admitted to dosing with painkillers *before* the run — only to wish (around mile 8 ) that I had dropped a few Motrin myself beforehand.
I’m still not running during the week like I should, although this week I maybe should think about actually hitting the street so that I don’t end up on the couch with a bum IT band from long-run weekends and no-run weekdays. So far, I’ve been able to fake it. I think that now our weekends will be >10 miles, that faking will quickly lead to sadness.