The 20 mile verdict.

You know those runs where you just can't seem to get your pace, you feel like your feet are constantly fumbling and you're shot by mile 3? The ones where you bowels don't agree with you, ya can't stay hydrated to save your life, and distance running seems to be the stupidest sport in the world? Your legs are lead, your feet are screaming at you and you think you may have just lost a toenail? And you're secretly wishing that a crazy biker runs you over so can call an ambulance and chill in the hospital the rest of the day rather than go another 10 miles.


Yeah.


Today...dear friends...was not one of those runs.


The weather couldn't have been any perfecter (yes, I'm making up word tenses?). My feet couldn't have been any happier. My legs couldn't have moved any quicker (okay...so maybe they could've if I willed myself to it, but I was taking it easy). And all was right with the world.

I went out with a simple goal in mind. Run conservatively. Run 20 miles in 4:30 or less. Take a walk break when I needed to. Get through the distance and not kill myself (or hate running) in the process. And most importantly, just enjoy the morning.

Mission accomplished. Every time I pushed off the ground, I felt as if I were the reason the earth was spinning...with each step, I was sending the planet spinning on its axis. Everyone on the running path seemed to be traveling 20 miles today...and everyone was in great spirits. Lots of encouraging words and high fives along the path. And thankfully, Mother Nature was kind enough to keep the lady cramps at bay--Mother Nature or the wonderful drug known as Tylenol...take your pick.

There was, for a few brief miles, a point where I was convinced that I was going to have some very evident bowel issues and basically make a huge embarassment of myself (totally awesome, right?). All you runners know what I mean....when you're out there and you start to feel the trots coming on...and you're not sure if it's actually the trots or just a weird, painful gas...so you clinch and pray that it all subsides within the next quarter mile...and of course, it doesn't...and still you press on hopefully coming to a bathroom soon...and finally you're at a breaking point where something's gotta give and of course there is no bathroom or porta potty in sight...so you grit your teeth, muster your courage, and try to release some of the pain while vowing to the heavens that you'll live the most perfect life without any vices if you can just pass some gas and hopefully nothing else...yeah...that was totally me. And thank gawd it was just gas. Cause let me tell ya...I was wearing some light green shorts and THAT would've been tragic. But I honestly thought I was about to have the most repulsive of accidents. I know I wouldn't be the first person it's happened to...but it easily would make me want to never run again. Us runners are such a smelly--yet open--crowd. Aren't we?

But aside from that, the run was brilliant. Much to my surprise, I averaged just slightly faster than I did during my 20 last year. Which clearly is a hell of a lot quicker than my 20 in December of 2005. Apparently McMillian seems to think I've got a 5:45 marathon in me. I'll be happy coming in under 6 again. I haven't put in the leg work to get under 5:30 this year...unless, of course, there is a miracle on 10/7. So...as you've probably figured out...I'll be out in force on 10/7. Not trying to set a PR. But just trying to enjoy the day...enjoy the company...and enjoy the run.

20.17 miles in the bank, including a trip up Crickett Hill at the end. 20 hit at 4:19:00 even. A 12:57 average. Slower than all of you, but someone's gotta be the back of the pack. Why not have it be me?

So now we celebrate...because as of today...WE TAPER!