Three miles. That's all I had on the schedule for today... well, that's all I was supposed to do yesterday. But I didn't. I napped for TWO hours yesterday instead. Then sat on the couch all night. Lamecakes.
So I did the three miles today.
And getting those three miles in felt one hundred times more difficult than the 18 miles I ran on Sunday. My feet thumped clumsily on the pavement as I fumbled with my iPod and breathed heavily through (barely) a 9:30 pace. I felt like my old newbie runner self, all gangly and awkward and slow.
Some days are just hard. For all of the runs that make me feel great, a few are always lurking behind the bushes and underneath front porches, waiting to jump out and remind me that it isn't enough to just kick out the long runs and the speedwork.
Every run counts, and every run toughens me in some way. Like a good tempo run teaches my legs to move faster and my heart to move more oxygen to the right places, today's run taught and reminded me, really, that bad days happen.
And now, it's just a matter of understanding that and moving forward. Tomorrow we're scheduled for a 7-mile tempo run. In addition to having a great run, I'm hoping to leave NewbVille behind in those 7 miles, too. At least for a little while.