While I was walking back home from my second three-mile stretch I felt for the first time the outline of muscles at the back of my thighs, not like a region of dull pain, but as if I actually had muscles there. That made me feel grateful, as if I had reached an internal milestone. Next day the pain was numbing again, but I held on to the gratitude.
I was grateful to Kelly for her “ultimate workout” tip of varying the speed throughout the session. It kept me somehow fresh, and instead of looking forward to the moment I’d be done (a daunting prospect when you are at 0.5 miles and plan for 3) I was looking forward to the next time when I would decrease the speed, a prospect that relaxed me almost as much as the decrease itself. The speed values that flickered changing across the screen made math a little bit difficult, so I didn’t spend as much time as before calculating if I am a third or halfway through the ordeal. The end got in sight faster than I expected.
I wasn’t enjoying this too much, as you can see. God only knows why I was sticking to it, clinging to it, not letting go. I was still afraid that I would give up, the moment of disheartening potentially lurking somewhere ahead. But I was also curious how I would feel at 4 miles, or even 5. Not more than that.