Aside from getting ready for the Mt. Rainier climb, I'm also trying to get ready for the Vermont City Marathon at the end of May. This means that Sundays are usually set aside for long runs, like today's 18-miler. It was a lovely morning for a run, and below-freezing overnight so the dirt roads were not too sloppy. And suddenly the air is full of birdsong we haven't heard in six months, the angry chirrups of hungry robins, and the creaky-screen-door sound of red wing blackbirds--birds that winter south of here. Sure signs of spring (even if I can still climb onto the roof from the snow piles next to the house). It was great to be able to run on the roads again, after months of icy conditions, and I should have been a happy little running-sprite, relaxed and taking my time, joyous at the change of seasons.
But man, what a lousy run.
Every little hill set me to walking, and by mile 16 or 17 I was pretty much spent. Leaden, dizzy, hungry, and unable to will myself to run any more. By the time I got home (3 hrs and 43 minutes after I started), Lauren and the kids were literally heading off in the car to look for me. Am I too focused on Rainier to give running its due?
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