Went out this morning and ran a relatively quick 3.5 miles. Well, it felt quick. I say quick... the first two felt quick, anyway.
Since London I haven't run because my right ankle has been giving me some grief, but it handled this morning just fine. It's aching a bit now, but I think it will be fine for a longer run tomorrow, and possibly Saturday morning. I need to nail a six-miler this weekend, and we're away at least one night (probably Saturday, so that would rule a Sunday morning run out).
It felt great to be out. Hard but… Well, easy as well. It just felt right. I can't believe I had to leave it 10, 11 days. Damn I love running right now.
I feel like it's going somewhere. I've had some odd experiences on long runs lately, things I can't really explain – I think it's because a long run is kind of like voluntary solitary confinement, but in a good way. Your mind is free to wander (paradoxical as that sounds), and if you let it go for hours, who knows what it will come back with? I've had some really… enlightening, in a spiritual sense, runs. Runs that have left me questioning my sense of self, or reinforcing my sense of self. But the core of it, the running… I'm not sure I have ever enjoyed it this much, yet I've been in love with it since I quit smoking nearly 7 years ago.
The surprising thing for me is that the marathon really is a distant memory now. It's gone, I've moved on, let's do this now, let's go to that… All very different from how these things have been in the past. All very positive. If my ankle will just stay sexy, I think the Hereford Half Marathon will be a blast…