...then you had a morning like mine.
The half marathon is two, count 'em, two weeks from tomorrow. So far, my longest run has been 10 miles. The longest run my training plan calls for is 10 miles. Today ii called for 9 miles. This morning, however, I planned to run 12ish. Now 12 miles wasn't on the plan. And I know I promised to stick with the plan. But I'd feel a lot better having run a little closer to the 13.1 miles I'll be running on the 3rd. So 12 it was.
12ish. I didn't even check the miles exactly, but I know from bicycling that the loop I was going to take is around 10. Add on the miles to and from my house, and you've got around 12. A lot of times I stress over my pace, even on easy runs, but today I just set my stopwatch, started running, and never looked at the time again.
It was a beautiful morning. Cool, but not that cool. I was comfortable running in a tank top. Quite a few people out, too. The first 5-6 miles went great, and I was excited to run onto the second leg of the route. I've ridden there many, many times, but I've never run to it.
It was warming up, and the sun was in my eyes a little, but I still felt good. This is the stretch, however, where I'm always a little delusional. I've been on this trail for a good 5 minutes...I'm sure I've run a few miles. I should be almost finished with this stretch. I kept thinking I was almost finished and then coming across landmarks that reminded me that no, I don't run at the speed of light.
I was happy to run through this tunnel because it meant I was getting closer to the end of this leg of the route. And then it all kind of fell apart. Within sight of the turnoff, my dog stopped to pee. I stopped with him, started running again, and my knee hurt.
Now, my left knee rarely feels great. I tore my ACL and cartilage over ten years ago, and even after surgery it's never been the same. By some weird circumstance, however, it usually feels OK while I run and hurts afterwards. Go figure. So I assumed I'd just be able to work it out as I ran.
Run ~ limp ~ run ~ limp. Ow. I walked for about ten minutes hoping that it would start feeling better, but no such luck, so I called Jeff to come pick me up. Suck-o. Very frustrating and disappointing, but I didn't want to hurt myself so close to the half marathon. Discretion is the better part of valor, and all that.
Oh, and the irony? I got home and mapped the run on gmap-pedometer.com...9 miles. Exactly. If that's not a sign to follow the flippin' plan, I don't know what is.