How Slow can You Go?

Hold on, gotta do something real quick… *boff! zoff! wham! crack!* Ok, I’m back. One of my colleagues had a brainfart last night and left their mobile in the office. It’s been ringing off the proverbial hook since I got here, with the most annoying ringtone imaginable. But Smackman took care of that, didn’t he. My hero!

Yesterday, Kelly said her hubby woke her up at 4.45 a.m. and asked her if she wanted to go running. Of course she answered like any sane person (*smack! whack! bam!*): shuthefrackupi’mtryingtosleephere… Yesterday, I laughed about that. Today, I did the same thing. I got up and went running at 4.45 in the morning. It was dark. It was damp. There was a partial moon out. I ran slowly, though not easily (imagine one of those movies where the protagonist has been slowed down so it looks as if they were fighting their way through molasses). Actually, I’m not sure if at this point, you can even call it running.

Anyway, I ambled along, my shoes making that splatpat sound that indicates that I’m not at all moving anatomically correctly (which might explain my current knee trouble); at this snail’s pace, I was able to make it all the way around the Rosental before I had to briefly break for a walking interval. Amazingly, after that I was able to pick up the pace. Still, it took me the same amount of time as last week, when I walked twice! So, yes, I’m a bit bummed this morning. It’s a problem: should I work on continually running the entire way first, which should take me about 30 minutes? Or should I pick up the pace, risking having to take more walking breaks again?

One could say, I’ve hit my first wall… Let’s see how the Sunday run goes.