Long run with Tara and Andy. Last time we ran together it was 35 degrees cooler. Tara tried to kill us by adding in some hills. At one point she remarked, "You'll thank me for this later." It was currently taking much self restraint to not punch her in the face, but she's probably right. When we dropped her at her house, we had done 4 uphill miles out of 12. That left Andy and I with 8 to go, pretty much already trashed. We gu'ed up, and headed to the edge of Farmington and back to my house, with a detour for me to change shoes. Andy drove me to the brink of collapse, but we finished. I don't know which hat I'm going to pull another 10k out of. (sentence ending in a preposition) It seems a bit much to ask of taper magic, sea-level bump and race day adrenaline. As I spent the last hour of the run gamely trying not to puke it occurred to me over and over and over again that this really isn't necessary. Just because one time I wrote down sub-3 marathon as a goal doesn't mean I am strictly required to spend all this time, effort and money in pursuit. "Controlled and strong" got me through 3-4 miles at the end. It's funny the lies we tell ourselves to try to drown out the ugly truths that flow so easily from the subconscious mind at the end of a sustained effort. Obviously, it's getting near the end of a marathon cycle. After picking up my car, I went to my Dad's and changed out 5 exterior light fixtures. 3 hours after the run, I feel all right (Thanks, Rumbi Island Grill and 3 cans of Dew). I'm looking at my 57.4 miles per week and thinking about getting in 2.6 more tonight. Sick, sick, sick. I may never take a stab at 60 in a week again. p.m. 3.2 miles at sunset with Jens to finish off the week, very slow.
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