So I’m going to run Richmond Marathon in November with Team Jordan (Mom, sign me up right now, because I know you probably forgot) and I’m currently working on building up my base mileage and base long run for the first time in a lonnnnng time. It’s training time.
Day 1 was uneventful.
Day 2, however, which is still in progress sort of, as I’m stretching while typing, was a slaughter of my legs and lungs by Mike and Madrid. (Mike is my friend from the States that lives here and runs really fast. Madrid is the desert in which I live). It’s 95 degrees and drier than any South Carolinian could fathom. So dry, in fact, that my tank top and shorts, which were damp and cold from the washer when I left the house, were dry by the time I reached the park 1/2 mile later. Oof. And to make matters worse, I had a tinto de verano (wine and lemon soda- soooo good) during the soccer game, because seriously, you can’t watch a game like that at a bar without drinking. And so, when I saw Mike, practically bouncing while waiting for me, I knew I was in for a hell of a run. And hellish it was- 5 miles at a pace averaging 7 min/mile. My legs haven’t been that tired in ages.
Let me get to the point of this post. The best part about running in Madrid in 95 degree heat is the eye candy. These Spanish men know how to run: in short shorts, no tshirts, and in packs of 3. ow ow ow.
Portugal pictures coming as soon as I feel like wasting more time and not studying for my Spanish test tomorrow morning.
