Pardon my French…

…but FUCK YES.


It’s cold (39 F) and windy out, so I ran the first mile quickly to warm up.

My legs just kept going for the second mile.

And the third mile? That’s about when I realized that I wasn’t just running faster than usual because it was cold; I was running faster because I am faster.

Even though I was a bum for the last four (cold, rainy, miserable-weather) days and pretty much ignored my training plan, I ran fast (for me) tonight and didn’t get tired. Every time my watch beeped with a thrilling mile split, I felt a renewed burst of energy to keep running strong. I never stopped, except for stoplights. I was in the fucking zone.

Three of weeks of training, including speed work, equals this incredible feeling.

I’ll take a lifetime supply of this.

Running is the best.

Bonus: Completely unrelated photo strip from Aaron’s holiday party Friday night.


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