Back to a normal sense of, no wait…
10 mi. I had a 20 miler or at least 16 planned, in my head. A company dinner Friday night at ER Bradleys was well done, I had eaten well, too. Smokey chicken and pasta for lunch, more penne a la vodka for dinner. The night included some drinks with dinner, some shots with franchisees looking to enjoy warm Palm Beach, and a finale at Rum Bar. My scant few hours of sleep Friday into Saturday meant I was wobbly and tired, dried out and thirsty when I arrived at the store. This was thankfully not a race day, sponsors in the stands day or anything I’d be written up about in Runner’s World.
Erica was ready to keep me to the plan, 10 miles at her coach’s prescribed pace. I was relieved to see it was a 7:50 recommended pace, no race ahead so a dialed-back workout. We ran in the dark half way to Carlin Park, went to the water stop briefly and kept heading north. A few people were ahead of us, I would have guessed more. We weren’t running a fast Saturday pace, but neither were others apparently! I was spitting cotton white dry foam, so I made sure I took a few extra gulps at the Inlet fountain. I went to the restroom, and back on the pace before Erica’s legs would begin puckering or mini cramping she said. I felt a tiny bit better on the return trip – wind in my face and water more often. We finsihed up with an average of 7:49 (She really does pace well!) and a reward mocha coolatta was my prize at DD once done. I wouldn’t have gone that pace solo, I’d have settled for slower and talked the whole time. Most races won’t have me depleted that way, so this was more training I guess!
Screen shot from Facebook chatter among eyewitnesses who saw the crime —