…before I actually started training. In July. In Texas.
So let’s be realistic. I only have one real goal: to finish and not die. That’s my mantra for my training runs as well as my overarching goal for the race itself. Persevere, finish, don’t die.
So far, so good. On Saturday I ran five miles. In a row. That’s something the old me would have scoffed at, saying “I’d only run that far if someone was chasing me. Or there were margaritas involved.” Well, I’ll still run for a margarita. Or a mojito. Perhaps even a good piña colada.
But back to the five miles. I stopped twice for water and I walked in a few places (there were a couple of hills that are rough on my still-recovering hip flexor) but that totaled no more than a quarter-mile. The rest I ran, realio trulio.
I’m the slowest runner on the planet. I would be ecstatic to finish a half marathon in under three hours, although that may be a bit ambitious. But again, if my basic goal is Finish and Not Die, then any pace will achieve that. As long as I get there before they pick the cones up.
Persevere. Finish. Don’t die.