I noticed something interesting yesterday; my three-miler felt good - really good. So good, in fact, that I was a little disappointed when I came home, downloaded the run data into the computer, and saw that I hadn’t, in fact, blown away my previous best three mile pace at my target heart rate. It was a good run, but not nearly so wonderful as I thought it’d been.
I didn’t think much of it until today, though, when I ran (what felt like) a horrid four-miler. I could’ve sworn it was among the worst I’ve run in the last I-don’t-know-how-long - but when I got home and downloaded the data, it turns out this was my second-best four miles since I started running again.
I think the problem is that my perceptions are all out of whack. I’m running much better now than I did even a month ago, and I’ve got the objective measures to prove it. I can go faster, longer, more efficiently - but I’m not to the point yet where I can accurately judge my own performance. I can’t wait to get to that place, but in the meantime I’ll settle for the long, slow improvement I’ve been seeing (even if it doesn’t always feel that way out on the road).
At last, the 50+ year-old single-pane, steel-pan-having, nasty casement windows from our little house are gone! It might’ve taken almost a week, but we’ve got brand-new double-hung windows peeking out from every wall - energy-efficient, clean, and easy to open every one.
Sweet!
I just realized - it’s less than a week until Lacie and I hop on a plane bound for sunny California. That’s right, folks - from July 2nd to July 10th, I’ll be whiling away the hours under the balmy skies of SoCal, starting in San Diego and ending up just outside of Malibu. It’s a tough life, it is.
Consider this a warning of upcoming-potential-spotty-posting - I made sure to pick hotels with internet access, but who knows if I’ll even want to write?
