And I forgot the best part

A few days ago I revived this long-deserted blog with a self-indulgent little squib about the holiday running streak that has morphed into a 2014 running streak (aka “Will this thing ever end? No? Shit, better go run 3 miles.”). But silly me, I forgot the best part.

After my month of running, clocking 102.25 leisurely miles, many of them spent begging Samba pup to slow down or speed up or not eat the chicken bones that seem to be EVERYWHERE in my neighborhood, the craziest thing happened: I got faster.

Yes, yes, maybe it should not be shocking that running more makes you run faster. But my more had been slow, my legs were stiff, and when I went to run my monthly 5k in January I was, actually, shocked.

After hovering just under 24 minutes for months—dropping five seconds here, gaining three seconds there—I finished my 5k in 23:09, a PR by more than 30 seconds.

It felt like crap, of course. Right up until I saw the number on my watch.

2309

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