After Sunday's longer-than-planned run, James and I rested Monday and started fresh on Tuesday (in preparation for Myrtle Beach's Half Marathon on October 23rd!) with a short 4-miler.
At 5:30, it was admittedly humid - St. Louisans, hear me, the humid we all liken to "swimming through the air" - but it was fairly temperate.
But humidity wasn't the reason my husband turned to me in the first quarter of a mile with a look of horror on his face.
I knew that Sunday's tour of Umstead did a number on my calves, shins, and ankles; but I had drastically underestimated the impact it would have on my first run back.
The first mile I wasn't exactly running - it was more of a drunken lumbering in which I had to stare at my feet to make sure that I was actually connecting with the ground. And dear god was I slow. My feet were all akimbo, my arms flapping helplessly like T-Rex arms, and I just prayed that my muscles would loosen up and I'd be able to complete the circuit without having passers-by question my mental faculties.
Thankfully, they did.
Miles 422-425: Nice set-up for some negative splits!
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