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After a day of slacking and seeing "Milk" with Rice, today I got back into the swing of things with an ambitious (for me) early morning jog. I set the alarm for 5:45, and after a few snoozes, finally got going at 6:15.
It was uphill on the way to Prospect Park and I was feeling pretty pessimistic, but once I got into the park, I actually really got into it. It's so much more motivating to run outside, among trees and other runners, than to run on the treadmill with nowhere to look except at the seconds crawling by on the display and with threats of a dangerous tumble forever on the brain.
I ambled along to Feist and Fiona Apple for a good 45 minutes before returning home, and, apart from some initial tiredness in my legs, was feeling okay for pretty much the entirety of the run. Turns out, the one drawback to running outside (besides inclimate weather--today was quite mild/nice) seems to be that I can't keep any sort of decent pace without seeing those little numbers on the treadmill. The reason that it felt easy running for 45 minutes was probably because I only ran 3.2 miles, which J. and I mapped out on google maps. I realize it's a pretty laughably slow pace at 14-minute-miles (J. actually did laugh at me, heartily, if I recall), but my goal here is endurance, not speed, and with training hopefully I can work up to a pace that'll be somewhat less embarassing on race day.
Tomorrow I'll return to the gym, and Saturday I plan to get back on the Bikram yoga train. Still feeling optimistic.
* Note: whenever I say "run," please read: "jog," for obvious reasons.