Yesterday I felt like proper crap, down with a viral flu going around. However, the sun was shining and it was unseasonably warm so I popped a couple of advil and hit the trail as my daughter danced for 3 hours. I told myself I could turn around after a couple of kilometers if I felt really crappy but as I ran I felt, good! Really good. I ran up hills I normally walk and sped down the salt marsh trail flat sections. I realized the sun was going down much faster than last week when I turned around on one section and the sun was already touching the tops of the trees. Not wanting to cut this bliss-filled run short I raced through the last 4km section, scaring the living hell out of a partridge and it scaring me as I was trying to figure out what all the commotion was about in the trees, praying it wasn't anything larger than a fox. As I climbed out of the woods (I could still hear the partridge squawking in anger) I realized I was the only one left on the trail (or at least that section). I used my fear of the dark woods to my advantage and sped down through a field to make my last climb. The last section of trees has a heavy canopy and the leaf covered ground was next to impossible to see at that point so I made sure to lift my feet and ran as hard as I could to avoid the boogie man.
Back at my car I patted myself on the back for an awesome 11 km/7 mile run. Why can't they all be like this one?
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