This morning. Went out—with great trepidation— for a wee 35-minute run. Kept going. Legs like the wind. Felt fantastic! Could have run longer. Ended up with 52 minutes, 4++ miles. (All while listening to Episode 7 of the Ricky Gervais podcast, wherein our hero Karl uses the word "cobbler," to much ridicule. Seriously, when is the last time you took your shoes to the "cobbler"?)
What was all that moaning about in the previous post? Oh, the angst of the runner.
Coach says "keep track of what you ate and how you sleep before all your runs." So, dutifully, here's my report of last night's dinner, 9:30 p.m.:
One small bowl of gross canned half-cold (God, I am lazy) vegetarian barley (ha, i almost wrote "barely") soup; cheese and crackers.
Sleep: Went to sleep around midnight; woke at 6:45.
Run well, run badly; there's no sense to it! Bob says I hadn't yet recovered from my Big Race. OK, I'll buy that! "Load and recover," says Bold. OK, done!