Last week I started dreaming of marathons again. It happens every time I have a good week. Then a bad week usually snaps me back to reality.
By virtue of some nice weather, double run days and just sheer fucking luck, I ran 50 miles.
|Tuesday||6/25/2013||1.5 stroller/7.4 solo||8.9|
|Wednesday||6/26/2013||AM strollerfit + PM 10k||7|
|Thursday||6/27/2013||AM 1 stroller/4 solo + PM 1stroller/4 treadmill||10|
|Friday||6/28/2013||AM 1 stroller 4.5 solo + PM 1.2 and weights||6.7|
|Saturday||6/29/2013||LSD @ 9:13 avg||13|
|Sunday||6/30/2013||recovery run||4.4||Total: 50|
(Yes, I intentionally ran 4.4 miles on Sunday to make exactly 50 for the week because sometimes shit like that is important.)
Also, when I run twice in a day, I don’t shower in between. It just seems pointless.
Smelly or otherwise, it was probably the best running week of my life. Nothing hurt, the weather was beautiful and I didn’t ruin it by doing any stupid tempos or hills.
This week’s going alright so far too, but I’m not gunning for 50 miles again. It was fun and it made me feel all accomplishy, but it was cutting into my drinking time.