Negative Split

December 17, 2007

I’ve done it folks.  A new personal record.  The 44-minute mile.  This has got to be a world record for the slowest running mile ever completed by an able-bodied, self-ambulatory individual who is not participating in an ultra marathon.  Yesterday when I ventured out into the 3-foot deep snow I was grateful that the rules of the 30/30 were set in terms of time, not of distance.  3 miles would have taken me most of the day.

The good news?  I achieved a negative split run: first 1/2 mile, 23 minutes; second 1/2 mile, 21 minutes.  I was pleased.  I was also grateful for my snowshoes.  I’d still be out there if it weren’t for them.  I’m also grateful that I live close to no-one so there were no witnesses to my “running” in such deep snow or to my repeated tumbles caused by my snowshoes getting stuck at the bottom of knee-deep post holes.

Actually there’s more good news.  On Saturday I went into town for a group run.  I ended up running 8.5 miles and then limping back to the car dejected as I realized my knee had probably not been up for such a long run (this is not the good news part).  I was bumming on Saturday night and thinking I might be at a cross-roads with the 30/30 thing if my knee was going to start acting up.  I was delighted to discover (this is the good news part) on Sunday that snowshoeing doesn’t bother my knee at all.  This means that I can snowshoe on days when my knee feels questionable and still stay on track with my 30 runs.  Win, win.

Our pre-Christmas weekend was everything we had hoped it would be.  The four of us had a blast gaming and laughing for most of the weekend.  It turns out that I am the weak link in the game of Catch Phrase.  I blamed this on my sheltered island upbringing like I do with most of my shortcomings.  We knew things were bad and looks were exchanged when I repeatedly shouted out “BRAN OATS! BRAN OATS!” instead of the correct answer which was oat bran.  We played the game with every possible permutation of partners and my team lost every time so there can be no question about who the weakest link was.  But I can run a 44-minute mile, so I feel good about myself.

We also went and chopped down our very own tree from our friends’ farm.  This started out as an innocent family activity and spiralled quickly downhill when D pushed me, mouth open and face first, into a manure pile covered in snow.  All hell broke loose after that and the only safe one was GB who insisted on holding onto the saw for immunity.

Sunday morning was spent shovelling the driveway so that A and D could make their escape back to the city.  We were reluctant to let them leave but we kept their dog as collateral so we know they’ll return.  She’ll be staying at Camp Hundred Acres for two weeks.  Two days with our dogs and she is already exhausted.

Today is day 16 of my 30 runs.  I’m halfway.  Given the blustery winds, I choose the dreadmill. 

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