Seven Slow Miles on a Sunday (Heather)

One of my favorite things to do on the weekend is to drink coffee in bed while watching Food Network. If I go to bed early enough, I will actually set my alarm to wake up so that I can do this. This is also how I know that I am old(er), because 5 years ago I would sleep until 10 or 11 every chance I could get. After spending so many hours over the past few years in the hospital, I relish the opportunity to stretch my legs and wiggle my toes against the sheets- beeper off, no one asking me to make a decision. It’s just me and my coffee cup watching Giada chop onions.

How does this relate to running? Well, because when you train for a half or whole marathon, your whole weekend revolves around getting your long run in. And this usually means less coffee/Food Network time for me, because the longer I stay in bed, the less likely those running shoes are getting laced up over my sheet-loving toes. Especially when I don’t have anyone waiting on me to run with early in the morning. This past weekend, I had a work obligation on Saturday so I had to put off my 7 mile run until Sunday. Austin ran on Saturday and Lindsey was at the beach. Which, by the way, I was so very happy NOT to be running on /at/near the beach. Along with that hill in my neighborhood, I also HATE running at the beach. This past April, 3 of my friends and I got the same vacation week off together (which was a miraculous feat in and of itself) and rented a house together in the Outer Banks. This also happened to be about 5ish weeks before the ½ marathon I ran with Lindsey and our friend J in Williamsburg. J was one of the friends with me in the OBX, and was the only reason I actually got any running done in that week. It was windy and hot and I was the biggest baby during all of our runs. “I hate this,” “I’m hot,” and “My feet hurt” were only a few of the things that I whined about during our runs. During our long run (which was 8 miles), we ran out of water and stopped at a roadside gas station and asked to drink water straight out of their bathroom faucet. For anyone that knows me, that means I really was about to die. Anyway, looking forward to your beach post, Lindsey J

So I managed to drag myself out of bed on Sunday morning and drove to one of the flatter places in C-ville to run. And I did my 7, although very slowly: 1 hour and 16 minutes. I am not, and likely never will be, a fast runner. I wish I could blame it on my height (I am short!), but one of my other sisters is an inch taller and about 2-2.5 minutes faster per mile. The speed gene I did not inherit… but persistence I did! And on that note- goodbye week 2!

-Heather