What’s Memed mean anyway?

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I’ve been taking a break from posting because, lately, I’ve been focused on thoughts of a more personal nature.

However, I’ve been hit with a chain mail type thing in blog form, and I’m compelled to follow through with the corresponding obligations, mainly because I like the concept and the fact it shows how we’re all interconnected to some degree.

So to get on with it, I have to do three things.

1) Answer this question: if you had the chance to go back and change one thing in your life, would you and what would it be?

I wish it was just one thing. But I guess if I can truly change one thing, I would have chosen to not have ever smoked cigarettes and to have taken better care of my health while I was younger. Ironic how the thing I would like to change most can be summed up in one sentence. I could write a series of blog posts on other things I would like to have been able to change, but this one thing is what I truly regret.

2) Pick 6 people and give them this award. You then have to inform each that s/he has gotten this award.

So my choices are as follows:

  • Washington Ran Here. – I’ve discovered this one through another blog I follow who appears to be a friend of her’s offline. I would have nominated the Angry Runner as well, but JT beat me to it. Washington Ran Here is full of wit and humor while doling out keen advice and insight on running and training.
  • I Run Ultras- Because I know the guy personally, and although he’s a very different type of runner than I am, we’re cut from the same cloth and share mainly similarities in our passion for running long distances.
  • Steve’s Blog – While he is arguably controversial in how he attempts to reach his goals, no one can argue he has a strong determination and is fully dedicated. Following him along his journey as he attempts to run 100 miles consecutively is inspiring if nothing else.
  • Building a Faster Me – Simply because she’s interesting to follow in her training, progress, and her thoughts related to such.
  • Will Run for Beer – Not only is she serious about running, but she’s serious about beer. Need I say more?
  • JL goes Vegan – A triathlete Buddhist vegetarian turned vegan who, along with her husband, are two very interesting people I have the pleasure of knowing. I would have nominated Dave too, but alas, he was nominated by Joe. I just hope he doesn’t mind I took the privilege of nominating his wife before he had the chance.

3) Thank the person who gave you the award.

Well, Joe deserves thanks for more than just mentioning me in his post. Joe has a been a source of knowledge and guidance in my early days of running. I am the runner I am today partly due to Joe and what he has exposed me to in the way of training and concepts. He is the one who introduced me to Jack Daniels, which is the foundation for all my choices in training. I am able to confidently make educated decisions in how I train, and how I choose to prepare myself in order to successfully reach my goals. So, for that, Thanks Joe!

How to find a groove

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Starting out is a lot like going into the cold ocean. Some like to slowly tip-toe in and draw out the agony inch by inch as they submerse themselves. But the smarter way is to jump right in and suffer a shock, but for a much shorter time.

It’s similar with running. Better to hit it hard right away. This is going to be the most unpleasant time of the whole experience. You’ll question whether or not this is a day you’ll be able to do it. Push the thought away and just hold on. Have confidence it’ll pass. It’s almost always does.

Reach deep down and keep looking for that certain level of discomfort that feels familiar. It’ll come. Almost paradoxical how you can find a sense of comfort in the discomfort. The pain hurts, but hurts in an enjoyable way.

You’re pushing hard. You push a little harder to feel a little more. But just a bit. Too much too soon will ruin everything. You’ll be forced to let go and drop it all. It’s important to go gradual. Go just a bit more and hold it. Hold it until that spectrum of comfort mixed with discomfort tips back towards comfort. Ride it for a while. Enjoy it. It feels great. The discomfort feels great too.

Then it becomes stagnant. Too stagnant to enjoy and the enjoyment starts slipping. Time to gradually find some more of that discomfort again. So, you do this by pushing just a bit harder again.

There’s a certain amount of relief in the execution of this process. Exhilaration. Your brain is a blur. You’re not capable of focusing on anything else, including your biggest problems in life. Because at this moment, maintaining how you feel is your biggest problem.

But while you can’t focus on anything else, you can instead focus on nothing. You go blank and you’re no longer concentrating. Your body has a brain of its own and moves without you. Things move by themselves.

And that’s when you’ve found your groove.

Badwater and Ultras

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Running on the Sun


I remember when first watching Running on the Sun, how fascinated I was about Badwater. The thought of running (or travelling by foot) over 135 miles through some of the toughest extremes on earth was mind blowing. It sort of opened my eyes to how far people can really take their ability to run long distances. To me, at the time, Badwater represented a type of epitome of long distance running.

I remember describing the documentary to my wife, who has no interest in anything running related. While trying to pique her interest enough to get her to watch the documentary with me, she interrupted me mid sentence and asked “Herb, you’re not planning to do this are you?”

I laughed. My immediate thought and response to her was, “Are you crazy? No way! I have absolutely no desire.” And I meant it. The thought was ridiculous. This type of thing is not for me. The training would be more than what I would be willing to do, nor could I afford the time needed for this. Plus, I the monetary costs are ridiculous. Nearly $900 just to enter, plus there are costs for yourself and your support crew regarding travel, lodging, meals, and equipment for carrying out the race.

Nah, no way! What the hell for? I promised her never.

When I found Tony, who has already done Badwater once by the time I met him, I was somewhat in awe that someone who lived right in my neighborhood has done this race. Eventually, this led to an opportunity for me to crew for him on his second attempt. The three of you or so who read my blog on a regular basis already know that I’ve just recently returned from this adventure and have not yet fully wrote about the details. And I won’t yet be delving into them in this post either, but I’ll probably spread it over a series of posts as soon as I figure out what to focus on.

Well, what’s the point of this post then? I’ll get to that shortly.

Whenever I made mention of the fact I would be crewing Badwater, people joked about how I would be running it next. I always dismissed it. Others who were crewing alongside me were mostly crewing because they had plans to do the race in the future. It is well known that crewing increases your chances of getting accepted when applying. I repeated many times out there when asked by others that I had no plans to do the race.

Jack Deness and his better half.
I want to be like him when I grow up.

Well, perhaps when I grow up, I might want to be like Jack. He was doing Badwater for the 12th time when I was there. Maybe when I’m his age I’ll give it some consideration.

Since I’ve returned, I learned Badwater is different from what I imagined.

Not necessarily better, not necessarily worse. Just different and not quite what the documentaries capture. The best way I can sum it up is the fact that the event is even more bizarre than I imagined. There are things I learned about some of the people doing the race, and what they’re doing in addition to the race that blows me away. It’s also a lot of work and a lot of suffering for everyone involved. In some ways, I was truly turned off by it. In other ways, I’m left in awe and admiration. I’ll save these details for another time when I can truly delve into them.

Since returning, I’ve also found myself thinking more and more about Badwater. I’ve imagined myself running parts of the course that I covered pacing, as if I was racing it. I’ve caught myself fantasizing about this and fantasizing about returning to Death Valley. Thinking about it while doing my long run. Imagining what I would have to do to prepare if I were running Badwater. I’m convinced I am capable of running this race and I almost want to try.

But, I really don’t.

In fact, I’m quite conflicted about ultras in general at the moment. Right now, I have no desire to go beyond 50 miles. I know I could go past 50. I know if I wanted to, I could do a 100. Sure, it’s easier said than done, but to simply cover the distance, I’m confident I can do that.

But, I learned something during my first and only attempt at running 50 miles. I learned I don’t want to walk these races. I learned this when I was forced to walk because I went out too fast and hit the wall after 30 miles. Most of all, I learned there’s a difference between being able to cover 50, or 100, or 135 miles, and being trained to run over these distances. If I do this, I’m going to be doing the latter.

I also felt this way about running the marathon before I did one.

Currently, the marathon is a distance I love. For me it’s the furthest distance I’m currently trained to race right now. It happens to be and oddball arbitrary distance – 26.2 miles, but it’s also a standard race distance. With the marathon, I can feel the adrenaline pumping as I think about it. It’s the same adrenaline rush I get when I think about other race distances from the 5K to a half marathon. A 50K, however, could fulfill the same joys and self-satisfaction for me as the marathon does. I feel I could prepare myself to race a 50K.

Is that mile 50?


Meanwhile, thoughts of a 50 mile dredges up the thoughts of a tortoise. Slow and steady. This is because I’m not capable of doing a 50 miler any other way right now. And this isn’t a slight against those who run slower than I do. Actual speed is relative to the person who’s doing the running.

Weston the Pedestrian
The Father of Modern Pedestrianism


Ultramarathons and Pedestrianism have close ties. I realize there is a lot of walking that is done in this genre. I don’t judge anyone who walks in a race, but I figure, if I am going to say I am running a race, regardless of the distance, the majority of the distance should be covered by running.

When I am walking, or when I’m forced to walk, I don’t get that same rush and feelings of exertion that I crave which I get from running. I know I will be alienating other’s who are part of the ultra genre, and I don’t mean to. But, walking it is just not for me. It becomes almost a different sport.

When trying to discuss this with someone at Badwater, who just did his first and only 100, with a couple of 50’s sprinkled in, he explained to me with a smile on his face that I just didn’t have enough patience for an ultra. He walked the majority of his miles in his ultras, and I have no doubt he’ll walk his Badwater race if he ever does it.

What he doesn’t realize, and what I saw no point in explaining to him, is that there’s much more to be accomplished than just completing a distance. He seemed too satisfied with himself for me to bother.

Jumping into a 100 before I feel I know how to run a 50 is just not enough of an accomplishment for me. Going further than 50 right now would be premature. It would be faking it for me. Sure, I could do it and get away with it. But, what would I be proving?

So, my desire to shy away from ultras is not about my lack of patience for the longer distances. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. For me, it’s a deeper exercise in patience to truly learn the shorter distance(s) and how to pace it right to get my best time running, rather than slogging through it at a walking pace to just complete it. It’s just the kind of runner I am. The way I want to run. Again, I don’t judge him for how he chooses to run his ultras, or anyone else, but I’d rather not walk before learning to run.

So, I’ll do a 100 one day. Hell, I might actually even do Badwater for real. But first I want to race a 50. But not before I get tired of my love affair with the marathon. Sub 3 first!

That little fucker had Lyme.

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The tick I found Saturday on my leg tested positive for Lyme’s disease.

I’m being put on a 21 day cycle of some medication I cannot even pronounce, much less spell. Some nasty side effects come a long with it, including sensitivity to the sun.

In retrospect, I actually feel very fortunate. Had I not found the tick on my leg, the consequences could have potentially been much worse… obviously. So I actually count myself as lucky.

My Rock

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Saturday, after my long run, I found a tick burrowing into my leg. I pulled it out alive while driving home from my run. With one hand on the steering wheel, I managed to stick it in an empty propel bottle and seal it shut. The next day,I took it to the urgent care office. I’m now also on a first name basis with everyone there due to my frequent strep throat visits. Today, I received a phone call and found out it is, in fact, a deer tick. So, we’ll know in three days or so if it tests positive for Lyme.

I got a notice a month ago to appear for jury duty today. It turns out this is for a federal grand jury, and the only criteria for being chosen is your name gets drawn from a hat. No questions are asked by lawyers which most think can be answer with law-abiding biased answers. (i.e. I always believe cops) At the end of the day, I left the place legally obligated to serve as a grand juror for two times a week for the next 18 months. This will adversely affect my career and no one really gives a shit. How the fuck do I get out of this?

I’ve been neglecting my managerial duties at work in favor of spending time actually developing software. Developing software is what I went to school for in the first place. It’s what I fell in love with, and it’s the reason I entered this field for my career. By doing this, however, I’m not actually focusing on my primary responsibilities of managing, and therefore, am falling behind on all the bullshit that I have to manage. Which in the end, adds stress since I feel I am being negligent.

Today, I find out my father is in the hospital. He’s racked up quite a bit of health issues and continues to smoke and not take care of himself. Nothing I can do to get him to change. As long as he has his pain meds, he’s happy though.

But, tonight I managed to get to the track. Being able to squeeze out five vo2max intervals of 5 minutes each, at a pace faster than I thought I could, gives me enough to reflect on for the rest of the night, rather than dwell on everything I would stress about otherwise. Running is my rock.

5 x 5minute vo2 max intervals. avg pace 6:02 min miles

The Taper Roller Coaster

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It’s no longer a question of what I can do in the marathon. I already figured that out when I ran 21.2 miles at a pace of 7:04 during my last long run. It’s just a question of what I’ll be able to do on race day in Boston.

In every day-to-day running, I still cannot understand what those tiny variables are that make you struggle when running an easy pace you could otherwise do without breaking a sweat on any other day. Could one of those variables show up on race day for me? I’ve seen it happen to others, never with an explanation. But, every runner I know is prone to them. We just write them off as a fact of life and go out the next day hoping to have a better training run.

Unless of course this happens during a race.

The marathon I trained for was already last fall. It was a success and the reason I’m running Boston this Monday. I decided back then I would just maintain my base by doing what I’ve been doing all along during my training. Basically, what I enjoy most. Spending some time once a week by myself, or occasionally with company, just going out for a stroll, albeit, at an easy running pace for 20 miles.

During this time, I’m not really sure what happened. It just did. In the past, I’ve worked hard and was often disappointed about seeing only negligible improvements. Over the last six months, I wouldn’t say I did much in the way of training. Yet, I run nearly a marathon distance at a pace I could never have imagined being able to do. Never have I thought I might be in a better position to race a marathon.

So, recently, I decided to do it right and prepare to race Boston instead of run Boston. Then, right afterwards, I decided I didn’t ever want the pressure this time around, and made an announcement I wouldn’t be racing it. Yet, I secretly continued to think about race strategy and how I could get my best race time. A close friend of mine said to me, “I know you, you can never not push yourself.”

It would be a waste not to race it.

And why not? What do I got to lose? I can admit it to myself that it’s the fear of failure. And, I’ve been there. It sucks! Having to go out for a long run with your brain trained to think of the marathon ahead, only to realize a second after you start, you already did the marathon and failed miserably. Dwell on that for 20 miles. And then, you have to live with that failure for at least six months before having the chance to erase it if you’re lucky.

It’s racing the marathon itself I’m beginning to hate. I love the training for the marathon. I love running one for fun or for a training run. And everything else up until the time comes where you have to wind down and taper. Then the pressure starts to build. Am I tapering too much or too little? Am I running too hard or not enough? The more I taper, the more pessimistic I become. I begin to lose everything I learned from a mental perspective on managing my own expectations. I go from being excited about running the race to dreading the possibility of epic failure ahead. It’s a mental roller coaster ride the whole time.

“Why do the marathon then?”, someone once asked me when I expressed this. ….So I have a reason to train for it.

So I’m making a decision. I can’t go out there without any notion of a target pace in mind. I’ll be mindful of how I feel and I’ll adjust if need be. But, I also need to check the Garmin. Because if I’m running a 6:50 too early on I’ll need to reel it in, even if it feels good. But I’ll allow myself a range. Anywhere between 7:04 and 7:15 will be my target. I feel very confident I’m going to be able to do it. I know I can run at a pace within this range. And if I come across the finish line with a pace much slower than that, then it will just be because of one of those unfortunate variables.

And afterwards, I’ll have to remember my original goal for Boston was to just enjoy it.

I never learn

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I went for my final short long run today. A week before Boston so it’s just 10 miles. I went out initially thinking things didn’t feel well. I wore a new pair of Asics Nimbus 11 in order to break them in since I intend to use them for the race next week. I ate a couple of glucose tabs and drank a glucose shot, more for a rehearsal in order to test them out for potential stomach problems.

It’s a beautiful day, 45 F, but sunny, yet windy enough to make up for the sun.

Again, at the North County Trailway, but a different section just to break up the monotony. Same half mile markers exist on this portion as well. Before starting out, I knew I already felt the glucose. I’m sensitive to sugar rushes somewhat, but not nearly as much as my daughter who gets giddy and silly whenever she eats candy.

New shoes, and legs feeling somewhat fresh from the taper, I took off trying to find that comfortable pace that I will be looking for on race day. A half mile in, and I see I’m doing a 6:33 pace. My judgement is obviously way off. For the first time, I’m feeling good in a while.

I try to slow it down a bit, thinking 7:10 should be reasonable, but I think my brain subconsciously knows I’m only doing 10 today. I hit the Garmin too early before the next half mile marker, mistaking the wrong white line for the one that I realize comes 10 seconds later. I hit it again so that I can at least get an accurate split for the next marker. Overall pace is at least showing 6:42 for this mile but I think still too fast for a 10mi run. This is more like my tempo pace than my marathon pace.

For the rest of my run, my splits stay sub 7:00. Quite a few splits at 6:40 on the return of my out and back. I find running on slight inclines feels better than running on the same slight declines on the way out. Over all 6:52 average for 10 miles when I’m done. It wasn’t what I would call easy effort. I admit it was even more than marathon effort. But, at first I feel good about this run. It was some reassurance. Recently, I’ve felt lethargic and have been struggling. But, of course something dawns on me and I begin to wonder if this was a dumb mistake. 6:51 was my half marathon race pace last January.

What was I thinking? I didn’t run 13, but 10 at what might be considered close to race pace a week before a marathon. Did I just make the dumbest newbie mistake of running too hard as soon as I felt good during my taper? I still have a week left though, so I’m going to take it extra easy from here on in.

But this tapering is really getting to me. The nerves are starting to set in. I’ve been having trouble sleeping too, which I blame on tapering, not so much the nerves. Things just don’t feel right generally and I’m constantly questioning myself. I know it’s all normal stuff. But, I really wonder what I’ll be able to do on race day, and I’m starting to look forward to it now that I think about it.

End of March

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I finished the month of March with 225 miles.
81 miles at easy pace
34 miles at marathon pace
5 miles of intervals (ouch)
87 miles of long runs (with 41 faster than marathon pace)
17 miles of tempo pace. (double ouch)

I’m thinking more about Boston than I care to admit. I know I’m fooling myself about the lack of importance the race has for me. It really wasn’t so important a month ago, but now, it would be a waste to perform poorly given what I think I’m capable of.

At least this is a different level of worry from my previous marathons. I’m confident in my ability. It’s all the other variables that concern me. And, regardless of my performance, I know I’ll be ok with it the next day. Come to think of it, I’m not so concerned.

when it all just clicks

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Since doing the 50K last sunday I’ve been taking things very easy. I’ve felt ok since then. Some tightness the next day with my right leg feeling significantly sore in my thigh. It was a weird soreness and something not right about it. Walking down stairs hurt, and it felt more like an injury than DOMS. The heating pad helped tremendously over the past day with each day getting much better than the next.

I skipped running Monday. Tuesday I did an easy 6.36 miles along the west side highway at a very slow pace and keeping it very slow intentionally. Wednesday, I did 8 miles at a slightly faster than my defined easy pace.

Tonight was one of those nights where everything felt great. I started out with what I thought would be an easy 5 miles. The fact I’ve been keeping things easy, I realized I felt somewhat restless when starting. I decided to instead find a pace which just felt good, thinking I would settle into marathon pace.

As soon as I felt settled in, I notice how crisp the air is, how cool it is, and how the slight dampness feels nice. After the first lap, I check my garmin and I’m surprised the pace is much faster than I thought. Closer to my tempo pace. Each lap around my neighborhood goes by faster and faster and the effort feels less and less. I concentrate and focus just on the feeling and finding that comfortable zone where there is some effort, but it’s only as much as I want to give. And it feels good. There’s no struggle and the laps go by faster and faster. The speed comes by itself.

A few kids take notice of how I keep passing by and they give remarks as kids do, mixed somewhat with awe with a twinge of mocking. I laugh to myself as I hear noises behind me that sounds like running and cheering.

On the next lap I see them watching me come down, standing still with an obvious plan, but uncertain as to whether or not they have the confidence to act on it. I hear one of them counting “1, 2, 3″ as if getting ready and its obvious they want to run along with me so I shout, “come on guys, hurry up, let’s go! ” They take off with a lot of noise and laughing, but they’re way behind and I’m not slowing down for anything.

Next lap, they’re waiting at the same spot and I shout out they should start now and get a head start. They do. I pick up the speed because it’s now a race and I got something to prove to 11 year olds :) . More laughing and screaming about how I’m catching up. As I pass each of them, they stop running one by one.

Next lap it’s 5 miles and they yell out they want to time me and I enthusiastically agree and I mention this is my last lap. “Ok, ready, go” I yell as I pass by. I now push out of my comfort zone. During this run, I wasn’t sure what distance I would stop, but stopping at 5.5 at this effort feels right. The idea is cemented as I decide ending it with a hard effort just works out for the best. It’s good to end it now while still feeling great, so I push harder and when I see them again they say 3:01. The lap was half a mile, but I’m sure it is faster than a sub 6. I slow it down to a recovery pace and I’m wondering if they will decide to follow, but it’s getting late and they shout goodbye’s. I reciprocate as they head home.

I plan to cool down for another mile, but I’m just enjoying the outdoors and pleasant night, I stretch the cool down for 2.5 miles and I log 8 in the book with 5.5 for a tempo pace of 6:45

Why can’t every run feel like this?

Good riddance February

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So, as I think back through the week, I remember the optimism I felt during the multiple days of rain. I saw how the snow and ice were being washed away from my favorite running paths. I thought this weekend was finally going to be an opportunity for something long and enjoyable. As the rain continued, the paths went from being covered with snow to being completely under water. Shrug. I’ll deal. Still better than ice. Since doing a 40 mile run a few weeks back, mostly through snow, I lost all tolerance to do any running on snow.

Then the weather forecast came and spoke of the rain turning to snow. Bah! No way it’s going to stick. pfft, the ground’s too warm and everything is already wet. Nothing is going to ruin this for me.

I look back now see how naive and delusional I was.

Thursday night the snow came and by Friday afternoon we were in a blizzard with over a foot of snow. This snow was the heaviest and wettest slop that I ever saw fall from the sky. And it was sticking despite the temperatures being over the freezing mark. The 15 foot arboretums that line along my backyard fence were weighted down from the snow and bent. Some of the trunks snapped, while others were worth saving. After spending a few hours shaking off the snow, tying them together, and getting them off my neighbor’s house, the survival of 3 of them seem to be ok, while the other 2 are left questionable.

left ones are ok, right ones are a mess.

Then shoveling my driveway was next. When done, I realized I didn’t run yesterday, Thursday, and not yet that day either. Our development gets plowed, and the streets had some puddles, but were completely cleared of snow and ice. I figured I’d get 5 easy miles in by doing 10 laps around my neighborhood, which is half a mile each.

As I was running, it slowly got darker. The street lights turned on. Not long after, the street lights turned off. How odd. As I continued, I realized all the houses were dark. I then realized the whole neighborhood was without power. Passing my house at around 2 miles, my wife called out to say she was taking our daughter out to eat and if I wanted to stop and come with. Being that I just got started, I declined and asked her to bring something home and then continued on.

I kept going and things felt quiet. I took off my ipod. The darker it got, the more it seemed that it was brighter without the street lights. Although the moon was covered by clouds, it was a full moon that still shown through. The moonlight reflecting off the snow made everything brighter than you would think. Only when there was a car with it’s brights on, did the contrast make it seem dark outside.

I finished 5. Things felt good and all the stress from the day with the snow and arboretums breaking finally melted away. I saw no reason to stop since sitting in a cold dark empty house was the other option. So I continued on thinking I would do 8. 8 turned into 10, and I had thoughts of doing 20, but decided to cut it since my family was home and I was being asked to come inside.

We were informed we would be without power until 8pm the next day. Thankfully, it came back on sometime around 3:30am. I was already up since 1:30am. Every house in sight was brightly lit at this time. Obviously they all went to bed with their light switches left on.

Saturday morning, I still had 20 to do. The original plan was the treadmill at the gym, but I thought I would try to capture some of what I had during my run the previous day. The roads were clear and it was hard to think of a reason not to do laps around my neighborhood again instead of the treadmill. Any argument against doing laps could be made an even stronger argument against using the treadmill. And, honestly, I had enough of the treadmill. I was determined to run outside this weekend.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go as seamless as I hoped. The loop has a 50 foot elevation climb and I do always go clockwise around when I do this. I decided every 5 miles I would reverse direction to break up the monotony. Still, each lap felt like it took forever. Then, after I got to 10, which was the same distance as the previous day, I realized the difference in how I felt then versus now; mainly being that I felt like I’ve been running forever and was only half way done.

I reversed direction a second time. I stopped counting laps. I stopped thinking, and instead of half mile laps going by, miles went by. I reversed direction a third time at mile 15 and realized it was the looping that was making it harder. I’ve given thought to doing a 50K next weekend which consists of a series of 2.6 mile loops. After doing 40 plus loops for 20 miles, I’m not sure I have the head for something like that for 50K.

During the run it also occurred to me how I needed to get this done because I knew how I would feel for the next few days if I did not. My previous blog post reflects the thoughts I had at this time. Eventually, I finished, and I was glad it was over. And, I realized the elevation of this half mile loop makes a tougher course than I initially thought.

Today is the last day of February. It’s also my little girl’s 7th birthday, ending an otherwise shitty month on a happy note. I have no urge to run today so I’m taking a rest day. This will end the month with 203 miles. Not bad considering February is a short month. Not short enough though, if you ask me.

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