Kicking up the Pace

Last night was my 5^th Flying Irish run – one left until it is t-shirt and Irish joke time! The run was a 3.25 mile loop above the northwest corner of downtown Spokane. I could definitely tell that yesterday was sunny, because the group seemed even bigger then the previous week. Texie and I were the only two of our regular group that made yesterday’s jaunt – but we bumped into a guy we play County rec volleyball with, and his friend – so it appears the influence of the Flying Irish is spreading.

As usual, the run took off from O’Doherty’s Pub downtown – and because of some sort of youth conference that was in town, the running club had a cheering section as we took off. And took off we did. While I can’t be sure that I was running faster then normal, I would bet the small change in my wallet that, yes, in fact, we were running faster then normal. This seems plausible for two reasons – one, Texie and I were managing to keep pace with what seemed to be a fairly large pack of runners, which typically is not the case for me. And two, I actually felt like I really had to try in order to keep the pace we had. Normally my plodding is just a notch above walking (or at least that is how it feels). But yesterday’s run, well, it felt like I was RUNNING. How odd.

As usual, Texie and I spent the 3 plus miles chatting about important current events, such as sunglasses, the weather, waterfalls, guys that are good looking, getting into shape, and how working in a small law firm (like our pal Meredith) would probably be kinda nice. The chatting was further evidence of our kicked up pace, at times, I felt it was, *gasp*, difficult to talk. Supposedly that is a good measure of your level of exertion, so clearly I was working hard. ;) As we neared the end, I actually avoided conversation, because I knew my remaining energy reserves could only be used one of two ways – talking or getting the hell done with the run as quickly as possible. In a move that will shock those that know me and my ever flapping pie-hole, I chose finishing the run as quickly as possible. At the end, my lungs burned. And it felt great.

With the sun still shining (man, I love daylight savings), Texie and I had a beer (ok it was a cider, but it looked like beer). Overall, I have decided that it doesn’t matter how the rest of a day has went, a day when I run always seems to be a little better then most. Happy Running!