So instead of 7 milers, I have run 8 milers this week. Both of which have been alternating bouts of good versus bad and lots of tortoise and hare. I guess they've been glorified fartleks. I'll feel good for a spurt and carry along gleefully, nailing a 7:45 pace with ease. And then I'll feel awful and try to remind myself that I should be running so easily that I could sing songs out loud.
I swear there has been an angel
and a demon 
on each shoulder for the past few runs. Monday splits: 7:55, 7:43, 7:49, 7:54, 7:53, 8:15 (errant satellite issue, rawr), 7:43, 7:24
Wednesday splits: 8:03, 8:08, 8:16, 8:00, 7:44, 7:55, 8:14, 7:34
The good news is that I have been plodding out the miles after work and doing lots of great running outdoors. The bad news is that my shin is angry about these evening runs and I haven't had a non-pained run in awhile. Since I've already had 2 full weeks of non-running this year (gee, thanks, flu & strep throat), I really don't want to have to be forced onto the disabled list. I thought new shoes might help, but now I think I will have to move onto other measures. So, I will be working at trying to do more morning running, more foam rolling, and rotating my work shoes.
And maybe I will tell myself it's okay to slow down a bit every once it awhile. My average March marathon pace was 8:31 so I'm pretty much running solid tempos all the time.
I need a running buddy to yak at and force me to take it easy now that I'm barely using my treadmill.
You'd think after all these years of running that I would have learned
that the body doesn't like running like a bat out of h*** all the time.
Classic rookie mistake that I'm still making practically 20 years
later...
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