The funny thing is that I don’t really intend to go that fast.
I got home from work, there was this window of rare opportunity for a run that wasn’t from the rec center or wasn’t sneaked onto the agenda at 9pm (which may as well be midnight). So I laced up, grabbed my music, and figured I’d squeeze in a five klick jog before making dinner.
That turned into eight.
And my pace settled into the low fives.
I suppose that it’s just the result of actually training. Those long, long runs. A tempo here and there. Scattered hills, but hills. The Oxford Step Fitness Program at work (what everyone is now calling the pair of broken escalators leading up to our office that I climb multiple times per day). The fact I haven’t had a respectable drink in two months. Getting to bed on time every night. I’m feeling solid. Tired, yeah. Worn out, definitely. Ready to just run this marathon and be done with it, of course, but solid.
I don’t really intend to go that fast, but then exactly two klicks into my run my watch beeps the lap indicator and my two klick time is a minute and a half faster than it was when I was plodding these same trails in the summer and I tell myself to just keep pushing because wouldn’t it be nice to have a speedy pace logged into Strava in about 20 minutes, and…
Tempo Tuesday.. even if it’s Wednesday evening in the chill of a early October cold spell.