First run after Paris
There are all kinds of things going on with my body. The “go-go’go” has caught up with me. In 96 hours I ran a marathon in Paris, drink champagne, visited a burned Notre Dame, flew to Iceland, had a 4 hour layover ( on the plane) in Iceland, had 4 hours of sleep, went to campus- taught a class, had a meeting, popped some advil(s), went to MIT to hear Beverly Daniel Tatum speak ( one of my academic sheores , and now it’s Saturday. I haven’t run since Sunday and it’s been 6 days. I sound like an addict. I want to run in the Bean since I haven’t been I left.
I was thinking a 10 miler along the Charles River for a Saturday a.m. run. It was cool and warm at the same time. I noticed the lack of runners which I had to laugh. As I started running, I wasn’t sure if my body would remember how to run, since it had been so long. She remembered. After a mile I got my pace and groove. I lasted for 8 miles. 10 wasn’t going to happen.
I felt so proud of my 8 miler. I hadn’t forgot how to run. My body told me 8 was good because we were not doing 10 miles.