I ran 7 miles yesterday at dusk (more mosquito bites despite spraying on DEET). Ran fairly slowly, and I had energy to spare at the end. So I ran up the gazillion steps of the Washington Masonic National Memorial, jogged down, then ran up again, repeating twice more, snorting like a horse on its last legs.
Whew. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest. The tourists taking in the sights from the top of memorial looked at me as if I was insane.
'Morning, Sunshine!: This morning was supposed to be my 10-mile long run. I woke up at 6:20 a.m., plenty of time to brush my teeth, wash my face and have some yogurt and coffee before heading out at 7 to run along the Potomac.
I sat up in bed, yawning. Gosh, I was tired; I didn’t sleep until 1 a.m. the night before. I lay back in my soft, welcoming bed, thinking, “I’ll rest just for a sec.”
I woke up again at 10:20. $*%@!! I’m such a slacker. Too late for a run, and I barely made it on time to meet my friend, S., for lunch and a matinee showing of "Me, You and Everyone We Know." Which is a great little movie, fyi. Very quirky and true.
When I got home in the late afternoon, I had the bright idea to clean the house - not an easy task, as we have 3-story place. (E.'s driving back from California, and will be home by Wednesday. And the house was a mess.) I finished at dark. Whaddya know, too late to run. I did do a few sprints up and down a nearby hill, though.