My Watch Must Be Broken

For the first time since September or October, I decided to wear my watch on last night's run. I knew that after the marathon, I would not be setting any land speed records so I ditched it for some recreational running. Now, I guess I'm starting to feel that training bug again.

Last night's five-miler was also the first time Martini and I ran together since before the holidays. I figured with the unspoken competition of our runs that my time might better reflect what pace I'm capable of running. However, the extended downtime must have affected my watch's counting ability. It was way off.

It claimed that I was slower than a March Hare on his way to a tea party--nearly two minutes slower than my race pace of a similar distance. Nonsense! Blasted thing must be broken.

Well, nevertheless, I completed some serious carb reloading and fluid replacement afterward in honor of the Ohio State Buckeyes getting stuffed in the BCS national championship (again). I helped devour a large pan of lasagna and a cache of beers leftover from a New Year party.

[Drunkard note: Obviously, I was not drinking beer at that party.]

The best part of the run was that I was wearing shorts and a longsleeve tech shirt and wished I had worn less. Nothing like a January heatwave to get your spirits up!

Cheers.