I'll just say this right now: the 8 miles I ran on Saturday morning were not the best. I think one of the worst feelings ever is getting up early (alarm went off at 4:55 a.m.), eating breakfast, foam rolling (AV showed me some awesome moves that really loosened up my legs), getting completely set up and pumped to go run and then stepping outside into heat and humidity. Half a mile in I had to give into the sinking feeling that the run was not going to be speedy. I had to be OK with that, because I really didn't have any other choice. Not sure what my splits were, although I know my fastest mile was somewhere around 10:37. 8.03 at 1:27:44 for a 10:56/mi pace. Bleh. Blah. Puke.
I'm trying not to get into the "I hate running" mode that I got sucked into last year. Last week I actually considered rejoining my barre studio (even though my free gym offers barre classes), so I know I'm right on the edge of getting bored with it. Yoga helps. Yesterday's afternoon class was HARD. Yogitoes mat? DRENCHED. It was awesome. What discouragement I felt Saturday ended up floating away at the end of the sweaty hour.
I have 6 weeks until the half, and some days I'm pretty positive I'm not going to hit this 2:20 goal. Other days I feel like the fastest woman alive. (Probably delusional exhaustion talking) I am clearly not a natural runner and sometimes that makes me ask myself why the heck I signed up for this thing in the first place. But the feeling I get after a long run--even a crappy slow one like Saturday--almost always makes me forget the negative.
If anything, I'm praying this morning's rain dump took care of some of the humidity. Please, baby Jesus!