It's not what it looks like, Honest!

Have you ever had one of those runs where you look at the total distance, and you look at the time, and you want to scream because the way you feel when you finish versus how you actually did on paper say two totally different things? Then you calm down and convince yourself you need a new time watch because the one you have is obviously broken.

That's what last night was like.

While out driving with Dave this past weekend, Ted thought he had discovered a new 8-mile running route. Turns out it isn't quite 8 miles, but more like 5.7 (I'm not quite sure how he got the 8-mile in the first place...he broke this news that he thought he had measured wrong before we left the house last night). With Ted's confession, we decided to run that new route last night anyway, with the possibility of tacking on an extra three miles at the end to increase the mileage and bring the total up to 8-9.

It was a funny weather night for running. Because it was so warm yesterday, our heat never came on in the house, so it was colder inside than out. This phenomenon offset my body thermometer, and Ted had to talk me into leaving the long-sleeve shirt at home. It was warm on our run, and it felt sticky and soupy. Not as bad as I know it can get (and will get), but sticky and soupy just the same, and in the middle of March, just a little stickiness and soupiness can make a lot of difference.

The topography map I've included is a pretty good summary of the run and how it went. We started out with the intention of chalking up 8 that night (keep in mind Ted has yet to break the 6-mile barrier...there will be celebration in Southeast Pennsylvania when that happens). So the pace was a light jog to start out. Until about mile one, where we begin the downhill descent, and naturally picked the pace up.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: Dave is about the only one of my readers who knows this route, has run is, and can appreciate the hill at the end of the first mile...by the train tracks, D. He knows this hill, as it has caught up with him a few times, and it is one I like to call a "wine hill" because you don't realize what it is until it is too late. Now Dave, look at how that hill is recognized on the topography map, and look at how the rest of the hills are recognized on the topography map. I'll let the pity party begin this weekend).

So, as I was saying, we were moving pretty good until mile 3. The scenery was nice, and the road winded around behind an old quarry, farmland, and a few houses. It was like another world set back away from our little borough. Peaceful, quiet, and very picturesque. Mile 3.5 on was brutal, and showed no mercy, and met us coming out of this nice run like a brick wall. Ted made an executive decision to not add the little bit on at the end and just go home. At that point I was glad he did...although, let the records show I would have down the additional 3, since that route is fairly flat.

This morning Ted's hurting. It hurts to stand, Mags. He told me this as I was getting ready to head out the door in the morning. Hurry up so I can go back to bed a little. I know he'll be fine and ready for a longer (and flatter) run this weekend. His recovery time has improved drastically, and I would be surprised if he was still sore this afternoon.

I feel good about how I felt after the run. The saddest hurdle to get over is that the distance is hardly anything to brag about, and our time is hardly anything to brag about, but the way we felt made all the difference in the world to what sort of work out it had to be. And I guess I'll give my watch another chance.