Dragons

Today I gave one of the worst runs possible. No, I am not talking about that 'next-day' trot out that door that sometimes makes you want to pack up and go home. It also wasn't one of those days where you check your watch every 2 minutes and at every half-mile marker to remind yourself that, thank goodness, you are that much closer to the end of the run that the start.

No, in fact, the saddest part of today's run was that it felt good. It was comfortable. I even felt like I was 'pushing' it for portions of the way back. I would say that during no part of my run did I feel like I was doggin it. It was only after stepping onto my front porch after had I finished that I looked at my watch. It was then that my lively, sweaty smile turned to a frown.

A regular old downside-down frown.

I realized it was a terrible day because the facts -- the distance, the times, the speed -- was the exact inverse of what I felt.

Instead of being winded from a solid effort after a pretty unappealing Monday run, I found myself tired from a trot.

Like all good runners, I recalculated the route in my head. Perhaps the distance was longer than I had measured in my car, online, and with a Garmon. Maybe my watch was off. Perhaps it was fast.

Because the only way I could justify my situation was if this route had somehow gotten a couple miles longer and/or my watch was running from 10 minutes before I woke up until I stopped it at the porch.

I've concluded that, sadly, today was just a bad performance that felt like a good one.


41 mins, out-and-back (optimism-to-pessimism).