The Baltimore Half Marathon is this Saturday. I'm signed up to run for the third straight year. I have to admit that I'm not looking forward to it.
I think the reason that I've got some trepidation this year is that I've done less than my normal share of long runs this summer. I've been topping out at 6 or 7 miles rather than pushing it to 9 or 10 as I've done in the past. I think I've reached the point where the hills of western Howard County have beaten me. It's pretty much impossible to go for a run of more than 7 miles around here without facing at least one mile that's straight uphill. That thought is just too hard to face most weekend mornings. I'm too old, my knees are too creaky, and my mental fortitude is not what it used to be.
While I've been cutting back on the long runs, I have come to realize that running for me has become almost an addiction. If I don't run each morning, I get cranky. To be honest, maybe I should say I get more cranky since I'm generally pretty cranky anyway. This morning, I'm typing this instead of running because we're in the midst of a thunderstorm. I realize that's a pretty good excuse but I know that, later today, I'll be grumpy and will look back and blame it on the fact that I didn't go out for a run.
I'll still be at the starting line on Saturday morning. I'm sure miles 10-13 won't be too much fun and I'll be kicking myself saying that I should have gotten myself in better shape. We'll see.
News flash. Kim just let the dogs outside and it's stopped raining. I'm off. Lucky me.
This is where the magic happens.
