I ran a lot in January, and of course I kept track because I keep track of everything. Including trespasses against me.
My total for the month is 86 miles, and I’m proud of every single step. It’s tough to start running again after years away; when I started easing back into it in the fall, I could barely run a mile at a time. But I’ve just kept getting out there (or on the sub-zero days, in there to the gym) four to five days every week, and this past Saturday I ran 8+ miles like it was normal!
Remember that episode of Homeland when Brody finally emerges from a heroin-strewn cell in Caracas so weak he can barely function — but then there’s a montage of him going through 16 days of training with the Marines, and all of a sudden he’s back to being a badass?
THAT is what I feel like.
I will never be fast. I’m not a gazelle. I’m more like a pack mule, slow and steady, with meaty haunches. But a mule can travel far — and “far” is my goal. I’ve got a marathon in May in mind.