Kevin had an early meeting this morning so we left 15 min early. He still turned back early, but it was a relatively nice morning and I felt like going farther so I didn't turn back with him. He turned back at the Cascade golf course. I went on to the fountain up the canyon and ended up with 8.1 miles instead of the planned 6. Today was a recovery day so I didn't push very hard. I averaged about 9:30 pace for the first 4 miles. As I reached the parking lot by the gas station at the mouth of the canyon on the return trip I heard voices coming under the bridge on the trail. In the early morning light I'm pretty sure it was Josse that saw me and waved. She was running with a few other fast women I didn't recognize in the brief moment I saw them. I figured they were running on up the canyon but then it sounded like they may have turned up into the parking lot behind me. The thought of them blowing by me as I ran 9:30+ pace up the hill I guess was enough that I subconsciously picked up the pace. I ran up the hill at closer to 8:30 pace. I kept telling myself that it didn't matter if they passed me. I'm still getting back into running after an injury, it was a recovery day, and they are all probably 2-3 decades younger than me. Still, something inside me didn't want to get passed without a fight. As I neared the top I heard their footsteps and voices closing on me. I figured getting passed was inevitable, but then I realized that I was almost to my turn at the golf course. If they were going straight, maybe I could avoid getting passed. I held on and made the turn just before they would have passed me. I felt a little unsocial, and a little ashamed of being so reluctant to get passed...and a little bit victorious...just a little. I don't think I have much chance of this year being a PR year, but I'm optimistic as my average paces every week keep getting a little faster. A couple of times recently I've felt the urge to take the brakes off and go all out, but the wisdom of experience and the fear of injury have restrained the fire. Patience. Here a little, there a little. Enjoy each run every day. The joy is in the journey. The destination...there really isn't a destination. Each finish line is a new beginning. This applies to life in general. Today Karen and I celebrate our 27th wedding anniversary. Our years have been metaphorically full of seemingly endless miles of training, good weather and bad, PRs and injuries, 5Ks and marathons, successes and failures. Like every race, I think every marriage is an adventure. I'm not in the best running shape I've ever been in, not even as good as recent years. But I don't think Karen and I have ever been more in love. I know I've never been happier.
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