Two Weeks

Apparently, that is how long it takes me to recover from a simultaneously wonderful and terrible HIM.  Two weeks.  I ran hills in the hood Tuesday, sort of slow, biked hills yesterday, sort of slow, and then took off for a 4-mile tempo run this morning, feeling good!  I ran 4.0 miles in 46:31, average 11:38-minute miles...yay!  Although it was at lower elevation, it was not flat.  And I wore my HIM stuff, which gets stares, like, "Did she really...nah.  I bet she stole it."

So, now I am starting to think seriously about my docket for the summer.  I know I want to do a sprint or two,  an oly, and maybe a half-marathon, but I'm not sure about another HIM this summer...it is a lot of training, and I have to support the hubby on his quest for IM glory.  But it would be good for me to have a lofty goal to keep me honest.  I have a hard time committing to training just for the sake of training, but give me something that scares me, and I am motivated!  Self-discipline has never been a strong suit of mine.  I really do admire it in others, and have even aspired to improve mine, but alas, flying by the seat of my pants is my default.  Left to my own devices, I can be my own worst enemy...procrastinating, skipping, shortcuts.  But if I feel enough anxiety about something, that changes.  Dramatically.  Hence, a scary-ish race.  Decisions, decisions...