Last week, my rainy Wednesday run spurred this haiku, which Mike said made me sound like a Hollywood Indian. How! Me like'm bad poems. Me, Runs in Rain.
The forecast called for rain arriving by 6:45 or 7 p.m. I asked Martini if he'd like to go for a six-miler to beat the rain. We met at the entrance to the park at 6 p.m. The rain had already begun to sprinkle. It was a downpour by the second mile. So much for beating the rain.
We were going to take it easy as we both ran fairly hard the night before, he on trails and I, well, you know. Instead, we cruised along for the first half and declared that we'd take it easy on the back half. "Yes," I said, "we'll run a positive split."
The fourth mile is virtually all downhill, so we cruised down and then held back for the fifth mile, which was our slowest at 9:55 -- more like the "easy" I had envisioned. The final mile is back uphill, and I was starting to drag with a half-mile to go.
"Is something hurting?" Martini asked.
"No, just starting to lag," I said.
"Well, then pick it up," he responded.
We made it to level ground, and I began to charge ahead for the final third of a mile. I kicked toward the endpoint and finished exhausted and drenched. The average pace was not impressive (9:11 per mile), but it felt good to push it after a disappointing pace Tuesday night.
I went home and did three sets each of push-ups and sit-ups. I slept well last night.