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The Accidental Ten-Miler

After deferring my Marine Corps Marathon in September, I threw myself into other activities. I tried to put running out of my mind.

I forgot that I had signed up for Army Ten Miler.

I'd meant to sell my registration, but I missed the window. I figured I might as well go, walk part of the course, throw in a mile or two of running. Then I'd make like Rosie Ruiz and hop on the metro around mile 5 and meet Tom at the end.

(Last week, my PT told me I should try running, and see how it went. So I tried 2.25 miles on Friday and I felt pretty darn good.)

The sun was shining. The air was cool. It was a glorious, I'm-glad-to-be-alive day. I had forgotten how much fun and energy there is at a huge road race (30,000 runners!).

On the Army Ten Miler course
I walked. I ran. I kept my heart rate at or below 130 BPM to make sure I stayed within my limits. Walk. Run. Walk. Run.

I kept expecting to tire. I paid close attention to my body. Aside from a couple of random tingles in my leg, which vanished before I could be sure they were real, I felt great. I had to keep reigning it in. I enjoyed the slower pace, the people watching, the pass and be passed game. I felt like I could go forever.

I passed the metro station without a second glance.

As I rounded the corner at Mile 8, I noticed the only sign I'd been out of the running game for nearly three months: my feet were just a bit tender from all the plodding on pavement.

I can't even remember the last long run I did, sometime in July. That "muscle memory" stuff? Turns out there's something to that!

Here's hoping my bulging disc isn't too mad at me.

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