I woke before the little man today…at 5:30am, to be exact. He’s being a
good wonderful awesome boy and sleeping from about 9:00pm to 6:00am. When I awoke at 5:30, I listened to see if a chirp from the monitor had been my wake-up call. All I heard was quiet, even breathing. Nary an “I’m about to wake up for realsies” noise to be heard. Perfect! I’m due for a speed workout and was reluctant to battle the heat of a late afternoon run while also battling my own inclination to run sloooooowly. One battle at a time, please. My fragile motivation can’t stand up to too many challenges.
So, off I went. I opted for the simplicity of the “ipod shuffle fartlek.” Not too far into my first “run faster” song, I saw another runner heading towards me. Was it? Could it be? Ah, yes. It was fast-skinny-girl, out for her morning run. She looked confused at the faster pace I was rockin’. Sure, my “fast” is her “normal,” but I like to think that she was impressed. Or maybe she thought I was running faster just because our paths were crossing and I wanted to impress her. Oh, that wouldn’t be good. Not good at all.
Regardless of what the fast girl thinks of me, I had a respectable speed like workout this fine, humid AM. I ran about a mile total at faster than normal speeds, and it wasn’t until the veeeeeery end–during an unfamiliar song that had several fake out non-endings–that I felt like things were coming apart. A half mile on the front and back ends of the workout served as warm up and cool down times.