I ran .8 with my little boys (who are just getting over being sick) at 16:00 pace. That's right, we were running, technically. My little heart was just melting 'cuz my sweet little 6 year-old held my hand the whole way.
I was nice and warmed up, and only wanted to do 2 miles tonight, so I decided to do the rest as a tempo run. You'll never guess! I averaged 9:31 pace. Yea! It didn't seem all that fast to me. (Remember I usually run around 11:15 on the treadmill at incline 1). I just kept thinking "I hope I'm running around 10:00--not above 11:00. Please!" I trumped the 10 mile girl--who is missing several toes and whose arms are tied behind her, but still. So the bottom line is that if I were to run that pace next week in the 5k I would meet my goal. Yippee!
I didn't even feel any pain or anything. I think the thing that gave me the most pause was the sound of my breathing. In the past whenever I have had to breathe that hard in a run, I'm in pain. So by association (like Pavlov's dog) I kept expecting pain. The only uncomfortable thing was a little bit of burning in my lungs deep down. It's probably because the air here is so dry. I'm sure it is not the lack of cardiovascular fitness after sitting on my rump for about 10 years and not doing any regular exercise. I was comforted in the knowledge that some extremely fabulous runners reportedly make strange noises when they push themselves--not naming any names . . . | 