Saturday morning I was suppose to get up and run 14 miles but I just didn't do it and that meant I had to put my run off until Monkey went down for a nap. No problems.
At 2:30, I laced up my sneakers, strapped on all my running gear and set out for a friend's house which was suppose to be 6 miles from my house (one way), and I was just going to run through his neighborhood to get in the extra mile. Or so I thought. When I hit 6 miles and was still a good bit away, I knew he was wrong about the distance. It was exactly 7 miles to his house, so I didn't have to worry about adding on the extra mile. I ran the first 7 miles in 1:04. I made it to 9 miles before I had to stop and take my first walk break and from that point on, it was all a mental game. I was mentally gone by 11 miles. Checked out, wanted to be done. I even thought about calling the hubs when I got to 13 miles (it was right beside our YMCA) but then I would have beat myself up the rest of the weekend because I only had a mile to go.
I ended up running those 14 miles in 2:21. I was so excited. I was proud of myself and I told everyone who would listen to me that I ran 14 miles. I stretched, popped some medicine and took the rest of the evening relaxing.
Yesterday Monkey learned how to ride her tricycle, so I went outside with the girls and walked/ran through the neighborhood with them to stretch out my legs and to work out my sore muscles. I didn't feel as bad as I thought I was going to feel and it's giving me a new look on running.
Next weekend I'm running 18 miles. I'm not as nervous about these miles as I probably should be. I'm more pumped about them than anything else.