22.

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I love Tri-Tip.

I had debated for much of this previous week whether to run twenty-two miles on Saturday. It had been my original plan, until my marathon-sensei told me that I was probably ready for Dublin, so long as I kept running medium distances between now and then.

My initial plan of running 22, then 24 miles before reaching the eventual 26.2 was, it seemed, utterly unnecessary.

Nevertheless, when Saturday rolled around, I succumbed to my stubborn nature and decided to run my long run. It was perfect: a little sunny, a little cloudy, not too hot. I laced up, ate some cereal, finished listening to the latest TWiT, grabbed my water bottle and set out.

Immediately I noticed that I was over-paced. I know my long run paces pretty well, and I could tell I was going a little too fast. For some reason, though, I decided to go with it for a little while. I figured that I'd hit the halfway mark, get tired & slow down.

But no! I hit the eleven-mile-mark feeling stronger than ever. I completed the whole run without dropping pace. The result?

20 miles had taken me 3:30. At my 10 minute pace, I expected to run 22 in 3:50. I got home, eager to check my time, but not expecting anything much faster than that. I was shocked to discover that I had run 22 miles in 3:10, an 8.6-minute pace (which is like 8:40, I think).

Could running become more than just recreation for young Evan? I'd have to get a good bit faster than this, but considering that in some sick, maladaptive way I actually enjoyed running that far, it's a possibility.

More to come, as always...