Just When You Think the Relationship is Going Well, Running Decides Not to Call You Back

Friday night I completed run #24. I was supposed to run on Thursday, slept in too late to do my morning run, worked past the time to run with the Flying Irish, and then was "over it" and missed my run. I figured I would run Friday night (even though this was a "rest" day). It was warm and a bit breezy, and I had a great 40 minute run in the new Asics.

Saturday was our team run--our long run of the week. As a half-marathoner with a less-than-12-minute-per-mile pace, I had to run for 50 minutes. I ended up running for just under 60 minutes, and I ran just under six miles. The run was great, and I really felt the runner's high for the rest of the day.

I was pretty certain Saturday night that I had fallen in love with running. Running was always on my mind, running made me feel good, running gave me that glow, and running was all I was talking about. I thought that running and I were at the start of something beautiful and fulfilling.

But, running decided to play hard to get. Sunday was supposed to be an easy, 30 minute recover run. I didn't hydrate well on Saturday post-run or Sunday morning/afternoon. It was about 65 degrees around 7 o'clock Sunday night when I head out to run. I was fine for about 8 minutes until every muscle in my legs decided to tighten up and every step felt as if I were running through hardening concrete. I stop and stretched lightly, and I tried to run again to no avail. Running was not going to spend time with me Sunday. I ended up walking for another twenty minutes or so, heading home to ice my legs, take an ibuprofen, and pout.

I have another date with running tonight. I am hydrating and hoping that Run 27 is more successful.