OK, the second week of 10.9 miles is complete.
I survived.
But just in case you're worried I'm getting a big head over here, all impressed with my mileage, there's this:
I get home yesterday after my longest run ever, four and a half miles, and I am in the house, feeling pretty good about myself, assessing my Olympic chances and probably goofing off with something or another - the kids are playing outside with my husband - when I hear major commotion outside. Our barky, but friendly, dogs had escaped out the back gate and are going nuts out front, jumping all over our neighbor's new dog and generally making a nuisance of themselves. The kids, not to be outdone in the noise department, are screaming wildly, running around trying to "catch" the dogs. I run out the front to door to save the day, still wearing my running socks, and promptly slide off the top step and come down hard on my left quad.
See, I can say things like that now: quad. Prior to eight weeks ago, I didn't even know I had such a thing. Or, if I did, I certainly didn't talk about it.
Anyway, don't worry: my Olympic hopes haven't been dashed. And, I recovered in time to go to the Kings game last night. Nothing a Chicken Tender Basket with Fries couldn't fix.
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