But wait, you're thinking, "What about the title, asshat? If it was so good, why 'speed kills?'" Okay you got me there. Although I felt pretty good after the run, which I ran in a time of 22:32 mins (7:31 mins/mile), during the run it felt like someone had set fire to my feet and my calves felt like 2 vicious chiuauas were constantly nipping at them. My knees felt like sadistic midgets were kicking them the whole way. My lungs were on fire and the sweat was rolling off my face, stinging my eyes and drenching my shirt. I know for certain that 2 fat kids were hanging from my arms, because I could barely swing them back and forth. My mind had drifted that strange place in my head where the little drill sargent version of me kept screaming at me to get my tired, lazy ass in gear before a gaggle of geriatric nuns decided to pass me backwards. Good times, good times.
This may all sound torturious, and it is in the moment, but it's also oddly cathartic and estatic. The feeling I get after 2 hours of a 14 mile run, I can get in under 25 minutes on a 3 mile jaunt. It's pushing myself past my last best that keeps me coming back. It's the knowledge that after a run that if I train a little better, a little harder, then next time I can do better, go faster, run farther than I did before. So yeah, speed kills. It kills every sane and rational thought to slow down and stop the misery, but it does push me to do better and be better. Am I going to do speed runs every other day? Uh, noooo. But sometimes....just sometimes, it's fun to cut loose and give it all ya got. All right, now I have to finish packing for vacation. Later kids.