I woke up ridiculously early for my race yesterday. In general, I tend to wake up way too early on two types of days:
1. Race Days
2. All other days
I am, in other words, an early riser. This is a gift bequeathed me by Teh 'Mom, who was a bit of an insomniac, and it is The Gift That Keeps On Giving, despite my pleas for it to stop, already.
So I was up way too early yesterday and I managed to get completely wiped out for the day by running a mere 5k (which, for our Canadian viewers, is the equivalent of 3.1 miles; in fact, it is the equivalent of 3.1 miles regardless of your nationality, unless you live in the country of, say, East Base4Math-istan). I did manage to brew an IPA and I did manage to drink a few IPAs while doing so, along with about 20 ounces of a Belgian Tripel, which isn't exactly a recipe for staving off that drowsy feeling you started out with, and by "you" I mean "me".
That being the case, I did not think that I would be going for a run any time soon. Especially when today, yet again, I woke up way too early. Not as way-too-early as yesterday, but pretty way-too-early considering I could have slept till Noon and still not have missed any pressing appointments, what with it being Easter Sunday and all.
So I really didn't think, after yesterday's running and drinking and brewing and not-sleeping, that I'd be doing any running today. In fact, I said to Teh 'Bride, "Today's an off day."
But I've found that one of the best recovery methods after a day of too much running, brewing, drinking, not-sleeping, is exercise of some sort. And I didn't feel like doing exercise-exercise, so I decided to go on a short run to shake the legs out. So I plotted out a short 3.4 mile on Dr. Nic's nemesis, MapMyRun, and headed out the door with my water bottle strapped to my waist.
Now, I don't normally carry a water bottle for a 3.x-mile run because the run is over before I have a chance to feel the need for water. But, as I said earlier (look a few paragraphs above; you'll find I'm right in claiming I already said this), I'd had, the previous day, 20 ounces of a Belgian Tripel, which is quite possibly the most effective diuretic known to man, and it had caused me to micturate numerous times and thereby eliminate roughly 20 gallons of liquid from my body. (I am praying that this detail does not come across as Vulgar and unGentle. I tried to be as circumspect and dainty as I could.)
That being the case, I thought carrying a water bottle for my short run was, as they say, the better part of valor.
I really would have been happy with 10-minute miles. But at about the half mile mark of the run, I was somewhat surprised to see I felt really good; and I realized that I could easily improvise a 4-mile route, which I decided to do. But as the run progressed, I felt even stronger, so I expanded it some more, knowing I'd be okay because I had, providentially, brought enough water along for a much longer run.
In the end, I ran 6.82 miles at a 9:05 pace and never once felt I was pushing it.
For me, this qualifies as an Easter Miracle.