Today I had these grand ideas about running 7 minute miles around the Central Park loop. I got my neighbor/running partner all excited, and then I epically failed. My legs and my heart felt as if they were about to give out by the Harlem Hills, and we only entered the park at 84th Street!
Sometimes we ran as quickly as sub-7s. I managed to hold onto sub-8s for a while. By the end I was wheezing, growling (it's motivational!), and praying at a delightful 9:30 pace. Fml.
I hurt all over. This morning, whatever muscle connects my leg to my ass was so tight that I could barely get out of bed. While there was a reason I didn't want to get out of bed (yeah, setting my alarm for 6:15 AM but having no motivation to leave until 8:15 is definitely great for my plan to take over my region in under 5 years...), not being able to get out of bed was not cool.
I put my foot down at 7 miles. Literally. I was done running. We exited the park at 79th to head on home. Once I was done dry heaving, I insisted upon making a stop at 7 Eleven.
You run with me, you're on the blog.
Nothing can prevent me from taking incredibly unflattering photos of myself and posting them on the Internet. Yes, I intentionally try to look as unattractive as possible.