I am such a novice runner.
Today, a mere four days after running my longest distance to date (eight miles), I tried to run nine miles. I woke up a wee bit sore, did a bit of stretching and headed out. Mile one is always miserable for me. I hate mile one. I always hate mile one. If only I could magically bypass it somehow and go straight into mile two when everything’s loosened up and stretched out, and I’m in a good mental place. If only.
So. Mile one, not much fun. I was stiff and a little sore. I pushed through. Slowly. Slower, in fact, than I normally run. Today was the slowest I’ve been since I started running. And I stayed at that wretched slow pace. By mile four, my hips were crazy sore, so I tried a bit of walking. And I stayed walking for three and a half miles. Then I called it quits.
Lesson learned. I need a bit more time than four days between my long runs to recuperate. Luckily, I don’t have a long run again for a week and a half when I do the Papa John’s 10 miler on the 31st.