One mile.

One mile.

Finally. I did it.

Tonight, I just decided “I’m going to run a mile.” And I did.

This has been the secret goal I’ve been working on all season. On nights when I don’t feel like I have enough to do the minutes listed on my schedule, I’ve shot for running one whole mile all at once, no walking. At first, it felt impossible, I couldn’t even run for 45 seconds let alone a mile. And then I got frustratingly close. I hit eight-tenths of a mile and then last Thursday a mentally agonizing nine-tenths.

But tonight, I just did it.

And I danced the whole way home. I looked like one of those old iPod ads. 

How long did it take me? I don’t know. 10 minutes? 11? 12? I really don’t care. I ran it.

Will I do this during my multi-mile runs? Not yet, not even close. Other than enthusiastic dancing and moderate skipping, there’s not much left to me running-wise. Certainly not 12.1 more miles. But that’s okay. Endurance is a different beast. And I can run a mile.

Time for a glass of water wine.

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