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My Fitbit was somehow in logging mode while I drove home from Albany and it interpreted my bumpy ride down the Catskills as me having climbed 244 flights of stairs and having ran 11 miles.  This was going to be a hell of a nuisance to the integrity of my pedometer data unless I were to run a half marathon.  So I did.

The first 10 miles passed quickly as I was watching Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels and keeping a 6 MPH pace.  The next mile was tough and for the last two and a tenth I felt bored out of my skull and may have wanted to die a little.  My motivation was going to be able to say “screw you, Clara” after her “I’ll be able to walk tomorrow” comment.

I finished in a little over two hours and twenty minutes and hobbled off my treadmill.  I showered, sat down, and couldn’t easily get up again.  Maybe Clara was right in the end in that annoying Oracle at Delphi kind of way.

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My first attempt at running 10 miles was sweaty and involved me walking for a stretch.  Today, I was going to try running the whole distance aided by my secret weapon of The Walking Dead.  The show had recovered from the mid-season doldrums and things were again happening and at a pace where they’d probably distract me from foot pain and side stitches so I saved the episode for the last five miles of my run.  I hopped on the treadmill and began at a pace of about six miles per hour up a two degree incline and listened to This Week in Tech.  After each 2.5 miles, I dropped the incline a degree and eventually slowed down the treadmill to a little below 6 MPH.  The fast-pace of The Walking Dead season finale allowed me to ignore my environment and when the bodies had finished falling, I hit the “STOP” button on my treadmill.  I looked down and saw that both of my shoes had become untied.  Not just a little untied but “three year-old waiting for mommy” untied.  My food foot was being held in by the swelling of my feet and the increased friction brought about by the pool of sweat that had soaked my shoes and socks and pruned my feet.

Well done, Mr. Darabont.

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Today is the Superbowl and somehow that inspired me to run 10 miles.  I set the treadmill to 5.3 MPH which is pretty well the slowest speed that I still consider jogging and set off.  The first hour was unremarkable and passed by watching an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and then by watching short videos on tips and tricks in multivariate calculus.  I was still moving at a fair clip until about mile 8 when I ran out of videos and started listening to music.  At mile 9.64 I had a side stitch and, refusing to stop, did a will-powered turbo-hop for the last 1/3rd of a mile.  My knees felt weak and I looked somewhat drunk while walking even after showering.  My housemate was having a Superbowl party with two score dishes so I decided to celebrate my victory with…. a Caesar salad.