Saturday morning, Paul and I were up at 6:00 and running by 6:30; we had different plans though.  My goal was to run 10 miles and he planned to run 13 (I always joke with him, telling him he just has to “one up” me).  It was a nice cool morning and I felt like it would be a good run once I got started however I was quite upset when the alarm went off.  Paul didn’t mention it but I did hit the alarm clock rather roughly when it went off at 6:00.

The first hour was cool and comfortable.  As I made the turn to start my last 5 miles, I picked up my frozen Gatorade and I noticed the sun had started peeking through the clouds and it was heating up.  A song popped into my head, “Here comes the sun, and I say it’s alright…..”  Paul and I have run in some pretty intense heat so I really felt like I would be alright.

My mind started to drift to what good has come from my running because around the 7 mile mark, not much felt good.  I thought back to my first 5K.  My cousin Julie was there running the same race and we ran into each other by accident.  She was an accomplished runner already and I was just getting started.  Then I thought about my 2^nd and 3^rd 5K (and several after that) and the fact that I had the opportunity to run with my Aunt Carol.  She and I had always been close but running brought us closer. When we see each other, we still talk “running” and she understands why you push yourself even when you don’t feel like.  So, if nothing else good comes from my running, I can say that I was able to get to know two family members a little better.

My mind snapped back to the real world when my father in law, Mr. Xctmnt Sr, drove up and passed me a cold bottle of water.  For that quick moment, I felt like Lance Armstrong in the Tour De France.  I was pretty tired and I couldn’t speak but I was very grateful for that water and I’m sure he knows that.  He always seems to show up just when I need the water.  At the 9 mile mark I came upon an elderly gentleman walking his dog.  I forced myself to speak which was a mistake.  Any other time, I wouldn’t mind stopping for a chat but not at mile 9 of a 10 mile run.  I tried jogging in place while he was talking but I stopped that because it was distracting him.  I finally said my goodbyes and headed for home.  That last mile was awful; I really have a hard time resuming running once I stop.  I made it though, 10 miles in 2 hours.  And later than day, Paul asked the dreaded question…”So, do you wanna ride tomorrow?” AAGGHH

So…Sunday morning, we were up at 7:00 and riding by 7:30 and I don’t need to say that my legs were shot from running 10 miles the day before.  It turned out to be a great ride; I stayed close to Paul, tucked right behind his back wheel.  We rode 22 miles and I averaged 16.9 MPH.  I think that’s a record for me!