In St. George for mid-year Bar convention. Brooke and I headed east from my sister's house in Washington and ran largely on dirt roads toward Sand Hollow. Pace was very easy (overall average was around 8:30), although the terrain was pretty uneven and hilly. On our way back, we came around a bend to hear the sound of rifle fire in rather rapid succession. We continued on and saw a guy with a rather large rifle aimed perpendicular to us. His truck was stopped in the middle of the road and was still idling. He shouldered the rifle just after we came into view and started walking back to his truck. As we approached him, I asked how he was doing. He said, "Better now--I just got me a rabbit!" I replied, "I'm just glad you didn't get you a runner!" He didn't seem particularly amused. After we passed, he opened the door to get in, and we heard a Sara Bareilles song blasting out "Who cares if you disagree, you are not me, you aren't the kind of anything!" The combination struck me as slightly incongruous. My achilles held up very well and was only a little bit sore following the run. I'm hopeful that I'm truly on the road to recovery. With that in mind, I'll mention a conversation Brooke and I had during our run. She asked me whether I was going to try to break 2:30 again and I told her I thought that time had passed. She pressed me on it for a while, suggesting that I probably don't have many years of competitive running left in me (since I'm 36) and urging me not to give up on the goal. She told me that if she knew I was going to be training intensively for 12-18 months but that it would be over at the end of that time period, she would love to support me in pursuing the goal. We talked about what it would mean in terms of early bedtime, early runs, long runs on Saturdays, a more disciplined diet, hiring a coach again, etc., etc., and she continued to urge me to take it on. I'm still thinking about it, but I am leaning toward giving it one more shot.
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