Run 6 Miles

Yeah, baby. Here’s how it went down. I was visiting my hometown this weekend and decided to do 4 miles on an old route I used to hit in college. So, I paced myself for 4, since I hadn’t done more than 3 miles in a while. At the 4-mile mark, I was feeling strong and kept going. By the time I hit 5, I knew there was no turning back, even if I had to go on willpower alone and carry my lungs in my arms.

Since I wasn’t planning to do 6 miles, I didn’t bring a stopwatch, but going by the clock in my car and subtracting the time I spent stretching, etc., I did this in somewhere around 62 minutes. Not super-fast, but it was non-stop. This route is a bit tougher than my usual run, so I gave myself additional points for that.

Six miles is a long damn way.

Last Thursday, I had just finished 3 miles around a lake where I love to run. I felt strong and decided to go for more. I’ll occasionally do 4, so I knew I could at least make it that far. But almost immediately after I had passed the 3-mile point, I saw a high school buddy whom I hadn’t spoken with in over 15 years. Actually, I had just run past him twice, and neither of us recognized the other. It finally hit me on the third encounter. So, rather than going any farther, I stopped to chat. At any rate, I patted myself on the back for at least INTENDING to try for 6 miles.