I suck.

Wow, I majorly suck with this blog . . . Sorry. I really am trying . . .

Today was my very first trail run. Ever. It . . . was . . . AWESOME. Kicked my butt to run 2.56 miles, but dang if it wasn't a thousand times more interesting to run on a scenic trail instead of laps around my city block. Even though my breathing wasn't great (pretty sure I'm dealing with some undiagnosed asthma), it was still much better than when I'm running on busy De Anza Boulevard.

Psoas muscle acting up a little (reminiscent of Big Sur), but stretching and some ice should help.

I'm drinking a beer and toasting my first day back in running shoes (at least in a serious, training-minded way), and looking forward to ACTUALLY being as serious about this blog as I pretended I was to start it.

Here's to Napa!

One is the loneliest number.

I ran one mile last night. One measley mile and I feel so relieved to have even made it that far. As I was approaching one mile, I thought, 'I'll just keep running and do a little more than that.'

No. At one mile, my goose was cooked. I figured I should stop before I hurt myself.

I remember the day that I first ran double digits. A ten-mile run in preparation for my marathon. I was elated and grinned through my chattering teeth -- it was also the first time I'd ever tried an ice bath, which is another experience I will have to blog about later. Yowza.

So now I sit, thinking about one mile, wondering if I'll even try to do more than that tonight or if I should just rest on my laurels for a few days. Either way, I look back on the dozens of miles that got me through two half-marathons, one marathon and a 5K, I can't help but realize:

If you don't use it, you lose it.