3 and Puking

The 3 was mine. But the puking wasn't.

Wrapped up a solid recovery week this afternoon with 3 miles. Felt pretty good. Still tightish, but not nearly as bad as yesterday. Once again, I had some mysterious friskiness and ran moderately not slow. Gonna try to work some speedwork (gasp) into the schedule next week. The Feaster Five is looming, and although I know that I'm going to run slow, I'm also delusional. I've convinced myself that some type of speedwork will help me run slightly less slow, even though I've done ZERO speedwork since the Clinton administration, and the race is just 20 days away. The other funny thing is that in the grand scheme of things, this race means absolutely nothing, so I figure I'll try to step it up. Yup, I'm an idiot.

Speaking of being an idiot, I was wandering my way through blogs this evening and somehow, somewhere I stumbled across a video of a cross country race. The video was unexciting, and I've already forgotten where or when the race was. However, the cameraperson was standing at the finish filming people come across the line. At one point, the unmistakable sound of someone yakking could be heard. I immediately thought: "That's awesome!" I can clearly remember doing that. Man, those were good times. Perhaps, I'll run so hard, so fast at some point in the future, I'll be allowed to throw up at the finish. That would be fun.