Ok. Not THE longest run ever. Yikes.
That honor might go to Dean Karnazes with his 350 miles in 80 hours. Or it might not. I don’t know.
But MY longest run ever. Really. Sunday morning before church. (We went to the second service.)
2 hours. 39 minutes. 10 seconds.
How did it go?
I’m glad you asked.
The first loop went very well. I trotted along feeling good, walking up the odd hill, generally enjoying myself. Stopped at home before the second loop to refill my water bottle and eat half a jam sandwich. (It’s been weird getting used to eating while I’m running.)
After a brief intermission – didn’t sit down in case I wouldn’t want to get up again – I headed out the door again. A little slower. A little more walking. But still moving. One foot in front of the other.
About half way through the second loop I paused to give directions to a family in a minivan looking for a house on North Ohio. And I’d like to apologize. If I could find them again, I’d just give them a map.
I give, have always given, the worst directions on the planet. And I found that it did not help to be something more than 10 miles into my long run. My brain was apparently stuck on just putting one foot in front of the other. I directed them in a lovely circle, but certainly didn’t help get them any closer to their actual goal.
So – family in the beige van – I’m sorry. Next time I’ll maybe pull out my phone and LOOK IT UP. Crazy. I know.
I actually stopped a woman in another beige van several blocks later. I was hoping it was the same family and I could apologize and give them the real directions I’d mapped out over the last five blocks. She only thought I was a little bit crazy.
Anyway, stopped once more at a gas station to refill my water bottle and staggered on home. My chocolate milk was calling me; I couldn’t give up.