I've always been the person who needed to do things on my own.
Okay. That's not fair. Because "on my own" negates the fact that there's no way this past 9 months could have happened without the love and support...and encouragement...and butt-kicking of a handful of people whose praises I have sung repeatedly through this blog.
What I mean is, I don't do things because other people want or tell me to do them. As a matter of fact, the fastest way for me to NOT want to do something is for someone to tell me it should be done.
The other reason I am a person who wants to do things "on my own" is because I don't want anyone to know if I fail. If I fall off the wagon...if I don't succeed...I'm the only one who knows I was even trying. Shoot, the fact that I've blogged my journey is VERY out of character for me, because it has made me somewhat accountable to those who have read my blogs and cheered me on.
All of that, simply to explain why - even though I have a terrific walking partner who never complains and never fusses at me - I had to do my Maiden Mini Voyage on my own. And since Sandi had one of her countless doctor appointments yesterday, that was my target day. I had to go ahead and try a distance of 13.1 miles, just to make sure I can do it when the critical time comes in a few weeks.
For those interested in stats: Yes, I made it.
I use a wrist Garmin to track where I am and how fast I go. According to that, I completed the distance in 3:41:51 (if you count all the stops and slowdowns for traffic intersections) / 3:28:52 (if you just count my time walking).
The weather was PERFECT. Low 60s. Overcast. Light breeze. Not too hot, not too cold, not too windy, not too sunny.
I did pretty well for the first 8 miles or so. But then the knees (which have no cartilage) started letting me know they'd had enough.
Somewhere around the 10-mile point, my thighs and calves started telling me the same thing. And my glutes. (You can't get around this town without doing some hills.) And my hips. And my back.
And by Mile #11, I'd pretty much had enough. Thankfully, I still had to get back home, so I couldn't just quit. But that was the point when I quit noticing the little animals, or the people, or whatever else was going on around me and just started counting out the rhythm of the steps, knowing that each 20 steps was 1/100 more of a mile.
Just over 1/2 mile from the end, I had to cross one last, busy road. I tried to do as I'd done at all the other intersections and jog across so traffic wouldn't have to worry about me. So even with traffic coming (because it's always coming on that road), I started to jog across.
I think I managed three steps and the legs said NO. I apologize to the ethos that heard me quite colorfully telling those (censored) drivers they were just going to have to (censored) slow down and let me cross, even though they had no idea WHY I was being so (censored) pokey, but there was no (censored) way I could run across and get out of their way.
I kept reminding myself that if I could get through THIS, then the 500 Festival Mini shouldn't be as bad, because it's primarily flat.
I have never been so glad to come around a corner and see my house in all my life.
And for those who are local....it's amazing how much of our town you can see up-close-and-personal in 13.1 miles. LOL!