Yesterday was bittersweet for me.

It was a great day for a road race - cool temps, and sunny with a glorious blue sky. The course was another one of those "challenging-for-runners-of-all-abilities," complete with hills that make people puke (really). It was five miles of pure determination and grit; the kind of course that makes you say "Yeah, beootch..in your face" when you cross the finish line.

The start was mostly flat for about a quarter mile or so and then the first uphill comes up quick and steep. At one point I turned to the 60 year old man next to me and said "Feels like I'm running in mud" (it took me about three breaths to get out that one sentence)...and he replies "And this isn't even The Hill."

Ugh. I could hardly wait.

The course was a figure eight so I was able to unload my long sleeved shirt on the way through the start/finish area. As I was passing my shirt to my friend Jen (also the race director) she yelled out "You guys are three and four."

Huh?

Then I realized she meant I was the THIRD woman and the woman behind me was the fourth. How did that happen?

As I approached the 3.25 mile mark and water stop, I knew The Hill was still to come and made sure to eat a PowerGel. I was NOT going to get hungry. No way. Not today.

The rolling hills started and I was pleased to pass a couple of young boys wearing x-country shirts as I chugged up the hill before The Hill.

And there is was, looming ahead of me...I tried not to look up ahead and thought I could just focus on the road directly in front of my feet, but it was like being drawn to a horrific scene...I just had to look.

I had to stop to tie my shoe and then again to take three or four steps at walking pace to catch my breath. It was incredibly tough. I was so thankful for the families that were lined up on the hill, rooting us all on. I swore at the hill, swore at the race director and thought about all the things my blogging family has told me ("onward," "after," etc.).

As I neared the top of the hill, I noticed some rather chunky-looking spit in the road...and learned later that one of the leaders actually lost his breakfast on the side of the road on The Hill. Glad I didn't see that; not sure I would have been able to keep mine down!

And I passed the volunteer firefighter/EMT guys, I shouted "Thank You!" and waved...grateful that I didn't need their assistance but even more grateful that they were there in case I did.

Note: The Hill is about 3/10th's of a mile long--not too long right? Well size didn't matter here--it was all about the grade. After the race I asked my husband "What do you think the grade was on that one" and he replied, straight-faced "I think they classified that one as f***ing steep." And I am pretty sure he's right.

As I crossed the finish line, I realized the clock said 40:25 and again, I thought "How did that happen?" I had PR'd even though I was sure that it just wasn't going to happen that day with the winds and the hills. Go figure.

I was second in my division (without double-dipping, I would have been first) AND I was the THIRD female to cross the finish line.

The bittersweet part (aside from the double-dipping)? My friend Jen, the race director, and my occasional running partner, is moving to New Jersey. The one person who can talk running with me and then DO IT will be moving in about a month. I'm happy for her and her husband, of course (career growth) but I am also sad to see such a good friend move outside of the "I'm-coming-over-in-twenty-minutes" range.

At least I did her proud at the race she worked so hard to put on. And she did me proud by putting on a fabulous race (I LOVE when I get handed water while I'm in the chute!).

I'd love to say that I went out last night and was uber-focused, solving all the issues whirling around my brain.

But I'd be fibbing.

Instead, something better happened. I had a running partner join me. Sort of.

Let me explain.

I've mentioned previously that my husband is my biggest fan and a great race-crew member. He buys me running gear and constantly tells me that he's proud of my accomplishments (and admits not understanding the insanity of running). What I failed to mention is how much he hates exercise. Despises it. Will avoid it at all costs. This has been one of our, ahem, struggles as a couple. I don't expect him to embrace exercise with the same fervor that I do, but I would like to know that he cares about his health. At least enough so we can grow old together.

And last night, he surprised me by offering/agreeing to come along with me.

I do know a little bit about exercise and teaching people how to love it (or at least like it)...so you can rest assured that he did not RUN the 6 miles with me. He roller-bladed, which was much more his style. Jason used to play ice hockey and roller hockey, so he kicks ass on skates. It was cool to see him strap on his skates and just glide around like he'd never taken them off.

While technically not a "running" partner, he was my partner as I ran, so that counts for something.

It worked out great for both of us. I pushed myself a little bit more in order to keep up with him and he could scoot ahead and then roll back my way. We talked a bit, but not the whole entire time, so we each had a chance to be alone with our thoughts. For me, it was just so nice to have someone else out there with me, enjoying the weather, taking it all in, being a distraction from all the crap in my brain (eloquent, huh?).

And since he was there, I was able to run into an area that I'm not crazy about running alone in (which made him think about coming out with me more often, for my safety).

After 51 minutes, we both felt fabulous (admittedly, I had to work thru some hunger and some aches around mile 4, but I got over it).

Now let's just keep our fingers crossed that I can get him out there again! My goal is to ask him to join me once a week.

Baby steps, people. I'll take what I can get.

Tuesday (yesterday) was a "quick" 4.25 miles but it wasn't a satisfying run. It felt more like a "mileage-for-the-week" run.

Plus, it wasn't really quick, compared with some of my other recent times for that route...actually it was a minute or two slower, at 39:00 minutes.

I could tell that I was "dragging ass" while I was out there. Spent too much time futzing around with my watch, adjusting my jacket, stretching my shins, and re-adjusting my orthotics.

My thoughts were all over the place and I just couldn't focus on one single thing. Thoughts about work, husband, house, upcoming race(s), family, friends, volunteer activities, running, blogs, etc. were all swirling around me like a swarm of angry bees.

Felt like I was suffering from a mild case of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) for cryin' out loud.

Sometimes, I don't mind just wandering from thought to thought aimlessly, in relaxed sort of way. But there was nothing gentle about my thought process last night...it was as if the thoughts were stomping around, slamming doors, all demanding attention at the same time. Gggrrr.

Some days when I'm out there I can mull something over, let it roll around in my head for a while and it works itself out by the time I get back home. The problem either dissipates, disappears or solves itself. Last night was NOT one of those nights and I really needed it to be. If I could have worked through just one issue, I would have felt so much better.

Sigh.

Thursday. Run. Focus.

After working all day yesterday, I was really looking forward to a "long" run.

The weather was all sorts of crazy here in Connecticut - from being cool and cloudy to hot and muggy to dark and stormy all within hours. But nothing was going to keep me from getting out there. (I figure if Mother Nature finds a way to knock me down while I'm out there, at least I was doing something I loved when it happened!)

I headed out to my favorite trail in the woods, being sure to load up on bug spray. Just as I started up the trail, the rain started to drip-drop, giving some relief to the heat and humidity that had built up.

I was thrilled to be running in a warm, spring rain. It felt wonderful - I even took off the famous Orange Hat so the rain water could soak my head. It was a soothing, cleansing rain-perfect for the spirit and soul.

A sleek tawny-colored deer with a white bushy tail crossed the trail right in front of me and I couldn't help but smile and exclaim outloud "That was so cool."

By the time I turned around and headed back, the water was beginning to form puddles on the trail, making things a bit more treacherous with slippery rocks, roots and mud. The run back went by must faster since I had to concentrate on exactly where to put each and every step. It proved to be a good thing too - there was a turtle hanging out on the trail and I'm not sure I would have seen him if I wasn't so focused on my footing.

I had hoped to get in 6 miles, but I turned around too soon and probably hit 5.5 or 5.75. The amazing part was I didn't even feel tired. I would have kept on going if I didn't have plans for dinner. A year ago, five miles was a struggle. Practice, practice, practice really makes a difference!

But the very best part of the experience was watching the rain drip off the brim of my hat and feeling the mud splatter up the back of my legs.

Nothing beats a warm, spring rain.

Special Request to All Winged Insects: Please avoid flying into my mouth, ears or nostrils. I believe it is an unpleasant experience for both of us. Thank you.

Last night was hot and muggy, but it turned out to be better than I thought, for a variety of reasons.

I decided to take my two dogs (Jake and Darren) out for a quick spin before I did my full run - they'd been home alone all day and I couldn't bear the excited looks on their sweet faces as they watched me change into my gear. They always assume that whatever I am doing must involve them in some way, and I hate to see the disappointment in their eyes when I close the door on their noses.

A quick quarter mile down to my parents house (dorky, I know, but I love living this close to them) and then back again. Just enough to wear them out while I was finishing up the run.

When I stopped at the 'rents house during the doggie-jaunt, my stepfather suggested that he and my mother come over to my house to help me with the yard (hubbie hurt his back recently AND he's out of town). We have about an acre of yard that needs attention and it takes forever to do, especially if one is alone out there.

So when I cruised into the driveway 27 minutes later, my 'rents were just unloading their lawn-mower and three dogs. It was a lawn-care dog-fest at the house.

And I was once again struck by their generosity.

My parents are the two most amazing people I know. My mother is a four-time cancer survivor and has been sober for twelve years. She went back to school when she was 40 to earn her nursing degree. Her strength and ability to overcome anything that life can throw at her is inspiring to say the least. My stepfather is fiercely loyal, very loving and has stood by my mother through all her hardships. He is always willing to do anything at all to help me-or anyone else in need. They are my best friends as well as my parents.(I could go on for pages about them.)

One of the reasons why I run is because I can (as I've mentioned previously). I run because my mother physically cannot run, but she wishes she could. I run to inspire others - my stepfather has taken up running and loves to talk to me about it.

I run races to make them proud - hoping that in some small way, my accomplishments show them that they raised me well, that I am a strong, confident woman and that my strength and inspiration comes from them.

Yesterday was an interesting "fitness and health" focused day.

I went for my annual physical exam. (I use the word "annual" very loosely here, as it's been about five years since the last one.) I'm happy to report that I am the picture of good health and the running seems to be paying off. The doc told me that I have a good strong heart beat and he really didn't have any concerns about me! Gold stars and smiley faces for me!

Then I went to meet with a professor at UConn (University of Connecticut-basketball capital of the world). In my former life, I earned a Master's degree in Exercise Science and wanted to be a personal trainer/fitness center manager. My path veered way off-course and here I am, still thinking about fitness, health and wellness and feeling more passionately about it than ever.

I met with Dr. Casa to get a sense of where I might "fit" in the fitness world, and what steps I might take (or avoid taking) to get there. It was a great meeting, and he basically confirmed everything I was thinking/planning already. The biggest obstacle now will be decided what to focus on - do I want to get into strength training/conditioning with athletes? Freelance fitness writer? Physical Education teacher for kids? Something else? I know I want to steer clear of working in a gym again. That did not come with enough intrinsic rewards to offset the lousy pay.

After the meeting, I popped into a bathroom and changed into my running clothes (just like a super hero, but sadly without the cape and side kick). I ran one of my "old loops" around campus -approximately 3.75 miles - and spent the time reflecting on my time at college, how much it has changed, how much it has stayed the same and where I'd like to see myself headed.

I think I'll need to think on that last part just a bit more. Lucky for me, I have a longer run planned for the weekend. With any luck, I'll have one of those amazing "moments of clarity" where everything makes sense and clicks together.

If not, there's always the next run.

Last night's run was dedicated to Mrs. Harkins, East Haven High School chemistry teacher, circa 1987.

The weather was kindly apologetic yesterday after the record high temps (89 degrees) that we reached on Saturday (see, it really was frickin' hot - I wasn't making that up!). It was cloudy, cooler (mid 60's)and just on the verge of raining.

I ran my typical 4.25 miles in 37 minutes, which I think is the best time I've clocked so far on that particular route.

And I thought of Mrs. Harkins, as I have quite a few times in this last year. She was the type of teacher that all the boys oogled and all the girls admired. She was beautiful (she bore a striking resemblance to Vanna White), intelligent, confident, funny, understanding and in great shape. She earned the title of Miss Dead-Lift Connecticut and was the first woman I had met who was into bodybuilding and fitness.

She was also the coach for our track and cross-country team. Mrs. Harkins actually asked me, ME personally, to try out for her team. And she had never even seen me perform athletically in any venue. I still have no idea why she singled me out back then, but I remember being pleased that she asked.

But did I take her up on the offer? No, of course not. I was far too cool to be seen running around a track, going nowhere for no reason. The only reason to run was if we were being chased by the police because we were at a keg party in the woods, right?

Hindsight is 20/20. I try not to play the "what if?" game in my head, as we all know how maddening that can be...but I do wonder...what if I had gotten into running when I was 17? Where would I be now? Would my passion be the same?

I was so afraid of team-sports when I was in high school. The pressure to make so many people happy (teammates, coaches, parents) all at the same time was too much for me to bear. And I am still a bit reluctant to be competitive with anyone other than myself...but I can't help wonder "what if?"

Then I remind myself...if Mrs. Harkins could see me now, she'd probably be proud that I finally found the joy that running can bring. Sometimes it just takes a while to appreciate a gift that you've been given.

I ran the Armed Forces 5K today, complete with my friend's unit number and name written on my legs. "ONWARD" was written on my forearm and it came in handy, especially on those uphills--thanks Reba! I had a USMC t-shirt on at first, but quickly decided that it was much too hot to wear a shirt at all.

It was frickin' hot. And sunny. Not a cloud to be seen anywhere. The course was hilly, as expected. I swore at the hills; I told myself that hills were my strength; I pushed ONWARD and imagined that I had the entire MAG 16 Unit's strength in my legs (made sense, since they were written there!).

I paced myself against a woman who was about 20 seconds ahead of me for most of the race.

I had a terrible, nagging stitch in my side from the first 1/2 mile til the end. Gggrrrr.

Here's how the splits worked out:

Mile One: 7:55
Mile Two: 7:55
Mile Three: 8:05
Elapsed Time, Finish Line: 24:39

It's ridiculous that the third mile was slower - it was downhill for Pete's sake...but the side stitch was just killing me.

Not a PR, but given the conditions of the course and the weather, I'm not upset over 13 seconds. I still placed 2nd in my division so I have a "silver" medal to show for my effort(admittedly, this was a very small local race)! And I ran hard enough that I was actually thinking about puking. That must mean I was pushing it!

As a bonus, I had my very own cheering section (my parents came to take pictures for me so I can send them along to John in Iraq) AND I made a few new race-day-friends, which is one of the main reasons why I love racing in the first place.

And when I stopped at the liquor store on the way home to pick up some wine for the bridal shower I'm co-hosting tomorrow, the clerk asked to see my ID--I'm 34. That really topped off a great morning. 13 years. 13 seconds. It's all the same.

The butterflies have already begun to swirl frenetically in my stomach--24 hours before the race even begins. And my legs have that on-the-verge-of-falling-out-from-under-me feeling. Race day jitters have arrived a bit early for me this time.

You’d think I was about to run a marathon for the Olympic gold, I’m so damn nervous. It’s ridiculous, I know. One of the things that attracted me to this sport was the fact that it’s flexible in how competitive it is. One can choose to race alone or on a relay team; one can choose to race against others or strive for PRs; one can go to a race and just experience the camaraderie and excitement that seems especially intense on race day. Those options aren’t there in other sports. Either play on the team or sit on the bench. I love that I am always “out on the field” and I have no else to answer to except myself.

And I think that’s what makes me so incredibly nervous. I have to answer to myself at the end of the race and it’s nearly impossible to lie and get away with it. I can see right through my lame excuses with amazing clarity. So I know I’ve got to go out with a positive attitude and an honest effort. I’m OK with that because Race Day Magic makes it worthwhile.

Do you remember your first race (if you’ve had one)? Mine was less than a year ago, so it’s easy to recall even the smallest of details. It was a warm, muggy, overcast August day in Putnam, CT as about 260 runners gathered in a parking lot. I had recruited my husband to be my road crew and cheering section (at which he excelled) and he was bustling about getting me water and food.

As I was standing in the port-o-potty line for the umpteenth time, a woman standing next to me was writing the name “Cathy” on her leg. And she had the name “Kathy” written on the front of her singlet. I asked what the difference was between the two names. “Kathy” was her name; and “Cathy” was the name of woman who died from cancer that was the race’s namesake (Deary Memorial Run). We chatted for a few minutes about this being my first race and she gave me some tips and “rules of the road.”

As we lined up for the race, I placed myself at the very back of the pack. Kathy spotted me standing by myself and called me over to her and her friends. We started comparing pace-times and I predicted that I would run 9:00 or 9:30 min/miles. I told Kathy I would start out with her, but that she should surge ahead when she needed to since her pace was faster than mine.

The race started and we shuffled ahead and jostled for positions. As we got into a groove, we started talking about running and training. She looked down at her watch as we reached Mile One (I didn’t have a watch then) and said “What did you say your pace was?” I replied with “9:00 or 9:30?” and she laughed, and said “Well, you just ran the first mile in a little over 8 minutes.” My jaw must have hit the ground. HOLY CRAP! I felt this amazing wave of pride and empowerment sweep over me.

About a half mile or so later, Kathy told me she needed to back off a bit since it was a 5-miler and she wanted to save some energy til the end. So I ran ahead, made some new friends along the way and marveled at all the townspeople out on their front lawns, spraying us with their water hoses and helping with the water stops. It was awesome. I think I smiled the whole time. And I couldn’t stop saying “Thank you!” to everyone cheering us on. I was a bursting ball of enthusiasm.

I crossed the finish line at 41:36 with an average pace of 8:19 placing 8th in my age division. As I went bouncing up to my hubbie (really, I was bouncing just like Tigger), the first words out of my mouth were “THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN! I CAN’T WAIT TO DO IT AGAIN.”

And Race Day Magic took hold of me and hasn’t let go since.

Last fall when I was looking for a soft, non-cambered, easy-on-the-joints surface to run on, I re-discovered a state park near my house. I had been out hiking with my parents and our combined pack of five dogs when it occurred to me that it was the perfect location for running.

The trail is located about eight minutes (driving) from my house and is situated near a reservoir. Pine trees are the dominant foliage, providing the perfect running cushion and the most amazing aroma. The trail itself varies from rocky, to root-bound to packed dirt to leaves and needles. And it has quick, steep inclines/declines as well as gentle, gradual slopes. At one point, the trail turns to rough asphalt and becomes a levy for the reservoir dam.

I love being out there and last night's trip was exceptional. The park had transformed itself from scratchy-looking stick and branches to a plush green hug (that what it feels like out there!).

I didn't care that it was 90 degrees and muggy. I didn't care that I forgot the bug spray (although you can bet that I'll be leaving some in the car!). I didn't care that I had to take my CamelBack for such a short run (it was HOT after all).

It just felt great to be out there.

I caught a glimpse of a spotted owl; a red-tailed squirrel ran across my path and I witnessed quite the duel between two blue-jays vying for the affection of a female. I also met Moses, the sweet and slobbery pit bull who was also out for a run.

After 4.25 (approx) miles, with a beet-red face and an empty hydration pack, I wandered back to my car and watched a gaggle of kayakers testing out new equipment during a clinic hosted by the local water-sports store. I walked around, chugged my back-up water and cooled down.

Pure bliss.

I'm suffering from runner's remorse with some touches of runner's guilt.

I haven't run since Friday. This makes me very sad.

Sunday, I spent the entire day traveling. And I didn't get to eat one single ounce of protein all day. I usually get something at the airport, but there were some delays that prevented me from having time to grab something substantial-even if I was willing to take out a loan in order to buy it. So instead I ate what I had with me: A banana, a bagel and 1/2 a muffin for breakfast. Goldfish crackers, granola bars, animal crackers, graham crackers and Ritz bits plus two apples for the rest of the day. Boooo.

Monday, after four hours of sleep and a full day of playing post-vacation-catch-up at work, it was all I could do to stay awake long enough to drive the hour home, go grocery shopping and eat dinner.

Yesterday, my body decided that it was still suffering from the lack of sleep (I didn't really sleep while I was in San Diego - it was more like "napping at night") as well as that whole jet-lag thing. I was just utterly exhausted. The whole baby sitting experience in San Diego really left me emotionally and physically drained - for a variety of reasons that I won't drone on about. And the heat/humidity combo wasn't helping to entice me off the couch either.

So now I'm feeling that I-can't-believe-I-haven't-run-in-four-days feeling. And I'm getting nervous about the 5K on Saturday. Here's the course description: "This is a challenging course that will test runners of all abilities. The race runs through the western section of historic Willimantic. The course is full of rolling hills!!"

Great. I wish I had known that before I decided to set my sights on a PR for that day.

4 miles today. Even if it kills me and I melt in the heat. Even if I have to crawl back to the house.

I was able to get in one more run here in Escondido - a decent 31 minutes. It was a spectacular day for a run - cooler and overcast, instead of hot, hot, hot with a nice breeze. I ran it sans stroller, making the running seem much, much easier!

I would have enjoyed another chance to run, but my services were really needed at the house today as "mother's little helper." There was just no way to justify a run when my friend was operating on seven hours of sleep over two days. I've convinced myself that the rest my legs are getting can only help me at next Saturday's 5K. Tapering. That's what I'm doing. Tapering.

It will be hard to leave this gorgeous state tomorrow; even harder to leave my friend who really needs some support. But I have to admit, I am actually looking forward to the plane ride home so I can catch up on some much needed sleep. (I continue to be in absolute awe of people with children...I can hardly keep up!).

And I am especially looking forward to a 4-5 miler on Tuesday, back on my home turf.

I've survived my first 24 hours as a make-shift nanny. The first real test will come tonight when I'm alone with the kids for the first time. For the whole night. Alone.

I was able to get in a 30-minute run today. And I can easily qualify it as one of my hardest runs to date.

After a restless night of sleep, two cups of coffee and my famous peanut butter-banana-bread combo, I went out for a run.

It's not 60 degrees and raining here in Escondido, CA like it has been in Connecticut. By 9:30 a.m. it was hot. Sunny and hot. Probably in the 80's somewhere. Hotter than I've been since last summer.

Of course I thought it would be a fabulous idea to take the double jogging stroller with me. The one with an alignment problem. And with only one kid in it, it just added to the whole "veering to the right" problem. Between the kid and the stroller, I figure I was pushing about 30-40 pounds in front of me, up and down the hills.

Did I mention it was HOT? I drank most of a liter of water while I was out there. Admittedly, some of it was dumped on my head and neck, but I did drink most of it. Actually, I stopped every ten minutes or so to drink some water and check on my passenger. I was going for the "better safe than sorry" method of running in the heat.

It was a bit of a struggle and in the first six minutes of the experience I was afraid I wouldn't be able to pull it off. But I really wanted to get in a good run and I really wanted my friend to have some "quiet" time at the house, even if it was only 30 minutes. So I forced myself to press "ONWARD" and it worked! (ThanksReba!)

Everyone is napping now...and I think I earned a bit of a rest myself.

Interesting reflection piece on running in Newsweek's May 10, 2004 edition:

My Turn: My Morning Run is a Moving Meditation by Peggy Duffy

My favorite line: " It is on those days—the coldest and the wettest ones, when I am the only moving body on the streets, when even the dog walkers stick to the relative protection of their lawns—that my competitiveness surfaces and I gloat over my perseverance."

By the way, I'm off to San Diego to be a baby-sitter for a few days. I'm hoping to run and post while I'm there, but my top priority is my friend Jeanine and her two cutie-patooties.

Wish me luck - I'm an only-child without children of my own, so baby-sitting is always an adventure!

I got home from work last night with my crankiness at an all time peak.

Here's just a snippet of how I was feeling:

I'm in the bedroom, changing into my running clothes. My husband, Jason, wanders in:

Jason: "Going for a run?"
Me: "Yes." (Voice in my head: "No. I thought I would put on tights and a bright orange shirt as lingerie.")
Jason: "Running inside, on the treadmill?"
Me: "No." (Voice in my head: "Yes, I'm putting on poly-pro tights and a long sleeved shirt to run inside the 70-degree house).
Jason: "Outside, then? In the rain?"
Me: "Yes." (Voice in my hear: "Is there another option I'm unaware of?")

Luckily for both of us, I kept all the comments to myself. And even luckier, the comments evaporated from my brain by the time I returned to the house 4 miles and 38 minutes later.

Phew. That was a close one.

Every once in awhile, NOT running when I really want to reminds me how important running has become to me.

I wanted to run yesterday.

My body told me that I should rest or risk injury.

And my husband was watching "An Evening with Kevin Smith" by which I was totally captivated.

However, I paid the price by being cranky all day and restless all night. Running has become such a cathartic process for me - emptying my stress, fueling my soul and helping me to be a better person.

I won't be captivated by anyone's witty commentary or the pretty flashing lights of the television today.

Four miles after work. No excuses.

I consider today to be my one year "running anniversary."

As I noted in an earlier post, each year I participate in a 5-mile walk-a-thon. Last year, I ran it for the first time and that was the first "big run" of my newly-rediscovered running "career."

Last year:
It was cold and rainy.
I was horribly overdressed.
I was STARVING by the 2.5 mile mark and had to stop to eat oranges and twizzlers.
It took me about 55 minutes to finish.
After the race, I endured a terrible dehydration headache and "napped" like the dead for two hours.

This year:
It was the most gorgeous spring day.
I was still horribly overdressed (Why did I wear tights? I had shorts with me, but did I change into them? Noooo. It was going to be cold on the shaded trial, right? Ggggrrr. Dork.).
I was NOT starving at the 2.5 mile mark but had a piece of orange anyway.
I finished in 42:29 (and the course was not measured accurately so who knows what that means).
I did NOT get a headache and have not felt the need to nap at all.

Actually, I feel so good, I'm thinking about running again tomorrow.

Go me.