It was a lovely late spring morning. I was running with some friends. We were doing six miles that morning. A bit of a stretch for my weekday run, but I was feeling ambitious the previous morning when I agreed to the Friday run. :)
We were on our way back, maybe around mile five, when all of a sudden, a deer bounded onto the path. My running partner halted me from going further. The deer got spooked and shot across the pavement straight into an eight foot fence. No hesitation, just pure fight or flight reaction kicking in. The deer recovered from the fence's head butt and then backed up a little farther this time, and ran full speed at the fence again. This time, the deer jumped over the fence and fell straight down the eight feet of the fence and about 4 feet of concrete wall onto the hard gravel of the railroad tracks. Did the deer break it's leg or neck? NO! It popped right out of it's fall and took off down the tracks until it could find an opening back into the woods. It was one of the coolest and most bizarre things I have ever seen.
That all happened around Memorial Day weekend, which would have been about 6 weeks ago. About three days after that deer and I crossed paths, I took a little, shall we say, hiatus from running. So I stopped running. I did go out with my friend a few times a week, but the most I ever did was about 2 miles. You have to realize that prior to my hiatus, most of my runs were 4-5 miles on the weekend and 6-7 on the weekends.
Yesterday, I started running again. My marathon is now officially sixteen weeks away. Most marathoners start a training program at this time. So I started a training program. The first run was for four miles. I met my friend and we did the first two miles together. Than she and I parted ways. Then I did the last two. Let me tell you that those last two miles were heinous. Or so I thought.
Today I went out for a "hilly" run. A run that consisted of going up several different heights of hills. For five miles. And I was doing it. Running at a nice steady pace for about 1 and a half miles. Than I slipped off the side of the road into this soft patch of large stone gravel. My right knee, left hand and right elbow can attest to how "soft" it was. I wanted to give up and turn around. The person I was running with was kind enough to even suggest that. But I was not going to give up. But I did contemplate going back. Than, this thought popped into my head, "I only have four more months to train. And I am not going to get to Greece and not be able to finish!" So I wiped the blood off my hand, made sure my knee was clear of gravel, and we kept going. Up and down those stinkin' hills. And yeah, I walked a lot more on the way back during the second two and a half miles, but I ran up those hills and walked on the straightaways and downward parts of the hills.
My knee, hand and elbow all hurt. I feel good though. Like I accomplished something. Conveniently enough, tomorrow is a rest day. I will be sure and take full advantage of that. :)