Eight miles today. I woke up late and arrived at practice just in time to miss our campaign manager chewing out the staff for being late. As the Team run north into the hills, I was amazed how crowded the trails have become with Pasadena Marathon trainees. Lots of ice bags at the finish line. Last season, the eight-mile run saw the same thing: people hurt from running faster than their pace — except for Coach Alfredo, who twisted his ankle on a rock. Overall, 'twas another hot day and I'm happy to be finished.
Eighteen miles tomorrow. I'm gonna arise early, for once, and hit the trails before 7:30 AM. I need to upgrade my mental game, as I find myself fighting "the quits." A fair number of folk know my
goal. Several have expressed interest in actually traveling to Sacramento to cheer me on. Shooting for a Boston qualifier, I'm feeling anxiety I didn't feel for
Eugene.
But it can be done. It will be done. I'll do it.
Tomorrow.
Today I'll eat Doritos and watch football.
But it can be done. It will be done. I'll do it. 
No comments:
Post a Comment