So yesterday was a very dreary overcast depressing day. I was planning on doing 16, but just felt so bleah — tired and lackadasical. Finally I got to thinking about the Chicago, and how I had missed my goal of a Boston qualifying-time by just eight minutes. Up and out the door at 2:45 p.m.
It’s not just overcast, it’s downright ominous out. But I’m still thinking I can sneak in a long run before the rain comes. However, I only manage about three miles and it starts, hard. I’m not wearing a running jacket — in fact I seem to have lost my nice Nike running jacket — and foolishly wore these long running pants that get waterlogged. In minutes, I’m soaked to the bone. There was a definite camaraderie with the other runners, but — ugh. So I finished the six-mile loop and went back to S’s, dried off, changed and learned the pope had died. (Got the news from Buzzmachine). Found a free week-long pass to the nearby giant Reebok Sports Club and headed out for a treadmill run. By this time it was clear, but I wasn’t going to risk another rainstorm. The treadmill wasn’t ideal — it kept stopping — but did about nine, the last two at seven-minute miles. Got my heart-rate up to 192.
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