I didn't run. Not once. I thought about running. I brought my sneakers and shorts (and my lucky socks), but I didn't run. My excuse? I was busy being "French." I walked that city like no other city. I think we explored every last one of the arrondisements. (We might have missed a few, but only because I couldn't get us lost enough.) I figure all of the walking should compensate for some of the missed running.
Now that I'm back home I have to get back into the routine. To that end, I lugged my somewhat jet-lagged, semi-dehydrated self out for a three-miler this morning. My legs felt like logs-- not very llama-esque today for sure.
I need to get my mind back into the right "set" and keep moving forward. I know I should have run this week, but I didn't. No excuses. I will pick up where I should be in the training and through this whole "reality creation" decide that the missed miles don't matter. What matters is what happens now.
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