Under pressure

Went out with a friend last night. Watched movies and ate greasy fajitas and plowed through bottles of cheep beer and shot the shit and slept on the couch, and, in the morning, lingered over greasy breakfast and a paper. And amidst the wind that swirled around the patio, and the thin, diner coffee, and the amazing toast, I remembered that I had forgotten how important it is to have fun and not take life so goddam seriously all the time.

This week, which is coming to a close, was deemed a medium-effort week, so today's long run was only about 16k long. Our coach made a solid decision there, I'd say. My tummy, brain and knee unanimously agreed that I should go easy today.

It was a decent run. No geese gawkers littered today's chosen route; saw a handful of cyclists and almost no runners. The wind picked up at about 10k, and I thought it might rain but it didn't. I didn't have overflowing energy, and my pace was more tortoise than hare, but I let it go. I like to try to take it easy on myself during my long runs so I didn't force anything. The way I see it, I'm concentrating on one thing: distance. There's no need for me to add more goals and pressure to the mix. I am enamoured with running, and I want to maintain this love for many years to come. The best way I know how to make love stay is to not force it. Please don't confuse this with romantic advice; it is most definitely not.

It ain't seasonal advice, either. Summer is thinking about leaving us for a while. There's been a lot of that going around, but in this case, and as far as I know, it's nothing personal.