two miles

I had a frustrating morning.  This was supposed to be an uplifting tale of a glorious eight mile run, but instead I've nothing to share but pain and disappointment.  In the two weeks since I last mentioned this marathon thing, my runs had been going much better.  I had put together several runs of a few miles in a row without stopping.  Last Sunday, Dabysan and I hit the Mount Vernon Trail for a whopping six miles.  All along, six miles had been my benchmark - if I could get from zero to six, I'd know I could do the other twenty.  And last week went great.  I even remembered at the end why I used to enjoy running.  For the first time since I started this, I was actually looking forward to running this morning.

So I headed up to Maryland to meet up with my running (and riding) buddy.  A group was meeting at Grosvenor Metro to run along Rock Creek to the zoo.  We were going to run with them for the first few miles and then split off toward Bethesda, getting me to my eight.  I started out great at a slightly faster pace than I'd been running, but nothing unmanageable.  But after about a mile and a half, my right ankle started hurting, and I don't know why.  It felt like I twisted it, but I hadn't.  I kept at it for another half mile or so, but finally had to stop.  I stretched a little, but that didn't help.  We decided it made more sense to turn back than to continue and risk a more serious injury.

I know that stopping was the smart move and I'm trying not to feel discouraged, but next week is supposed to be ten miles.  I'd feel a whole lot better about ten if I had eight behind me.  Now I'm back to thinking this endeavor is insane.  And just when everything had been going so well....