So I ran 18 miles Saturday with friends and did not die. It was tough, especially the last two miles. It was an overall pace of 8:52 which felt damn tough for me. When this whole Ironman endeavor is over I'm going to have to focus on cutting back on beer and treats to get my speed back.
|Why do these other people look like they haven't run?|
That was promptly followed up with a 100-mile bike ride ... on the trainer. I'm a masochist, clearly. I was on that damn trainer long enough that my Kindle ran out of juice and I had to switch to my cell phone. Ridiculous, clearly.
|Recycle bin = table. Also, there's a growler propping up that fan.|
Mentally, I'm unfocused. I'm muddling through training and hoping for the best. This was not my plan at all, but very few things in life go according to plan. My only goal was to be able to finish this race with a smile. Now I'll take just finishing the damn thing. I have my doubts, but that's my normal state of being.
|The reason my runs feel so hard|
So instead, I'll focus on smiling. That's just as hard as an Ironman these days.