I went for a run last night for the first time in two weeks, and it was hard. I managed only a 12:19 average per mile versus the 11:51 I’d done the workout before vacation (and let’s not even think about the 11:28 the time before that). Still, I went, and that’s better than not going. It was strange how much difference two weeks made, not just in my stamina, but also in my surroundings. Instead of being dark and cold and snowy, it was light and warm (60 degrees F at 7 p.m. warm) and dry, which meant many more people out and about, both with and without dogs that wanted to sniff me. I felt rather conspicuous, especially since I didn’t have all the layers of clothing to hide under that I’ve gotten used to this winter. But I just kept plugging along, huffing and puffing and going all red and sweaty. Let the people walking by mock me after they go by if I must; I’m at least burning more calories than they are.

I’m still looking for a race to do soon. I decided against signing up for the in February that I was considering; I needed that weekend to regroup after being gone skiing and get ready for quilt retreat and didn’t feel I could afford the three hours travel time plus the pre-race, race, and post-race stuff. I did some research today and started to get on my own nerves I was being so picky. This race is too far away. That one starts too early in the morning. That other race isn’t using timing chips. I think I’ve found one that will work for me–it’s a bit far, but it starts at the relatively civilized time of 10 a.m. on a Saturday. I really think I need something to aim for other than just getting out there by myself three times a week.