Last night, I went out and ran somewhere between 15 and 16 miles. When I mapped it out, it came to 15.55 miles. I think it was somewhere around 15.5… Anyway, the distance doesn’t matter, and at the end of the day, the time doesn’t matter either.

I stopped running with a GPS and clock a couple of months ago, mostly due to multiple mechanical failures, but also because I was obsessing over it a bit and not enjoying my runs enough. I wasn’t paying enough attention to my body. What I have realized lately, though, is my body always feels bad until at least the third mile. Beyond that, I am home free, especially if the weather is nice. So when it comes time to go out for a long run, I figure out roughly where and how far I want to go, then I go out and do it, making sure to plan for water stops along the way. The last few times I have done this, I have come back home to see that the time slipped by rather quickly – anything beyond eight miles this seems to be the case.

Last Sunday, I ran 16 miles, with a bit of walking. When I was in the sun, I walked, in the shade, I ran, and apparently I ran well. I returned back to my base of operations two hours and twenty five minutes after I started! And then yesterday I ran 15.55 (or whatever) in two hours and fourteen minutes. My first few miles last night? Well, until about mile five? They were slow, and I stopped a few times. I ate dinner not long beforehand, and I was trying to cram in some hydration, so I had to stop. Translation? I ran probably ten miles in an 8 or 8:15 pace, which is absolutely killer.

And it makes me happy.