I ran 5 miles in the morning Friday and another 9 miles on Saturday. My legs feel good. Not tired at all. But I am dinged up. My right instep and my back both were bothering me. So even though I haven't rested, I have stayed away from anything hard.
No complaints. Dimitri thinks I was all set up to run the quintessential 6 minute mile and now I have lost my way. From my perspective (500 plus races and a thousand or more hard workouts) I am glad just to be still running. It's just not all about racing for me. As a matter of fact it's just not about racing at all. I am 61 and I am glad just to be running and enjoying the sport. Being the last runner standing is more zen than anything else. It is a meta answer to why I run.
I you don't get this I can understand why. I didn't years ago, or I really did get it years ago and lost it amid competition and striving for big goals. Nowadays, it's being there.
Sometimes that is at races. Most of the time it is me, alone, running. Just like it was in the beginning back in 1968 when I headed out my door and ran 2 miles to my friend's house. I just called him and told him I was on my way and would he drive me home.
That began it.