The first double-digit run in a training regimen carries a lot of psychic weight for a runner; it occupies an outsized space in the mind while — at least for me, now — moving the body into the realm of serious mileage.
I wasn’t looking forward to tackling the distance this morning. An 8-mile run two weeks ago left me sore and spent; it was the kind of disheartening experience that reminded me of just how young I no longer am and made me question whether I have any business training for a half-marathon.
And then today, and a run I knew immediately would be different. I eased in at a 10-minute pace, and let my body find a comfortable rhythm as it warmed to the familiar motion. By the end of the first mile, a smile had spread across my face. And there it stayed as the miles unfurled: I ran along a…
View original post 636 more words