Sometimes, running IS the cure. Sometimes, not.

I haven't done speed work in probably a month.

Actually, according to Daily Mile, it's been since Sept. 20th. Oops.

Last night, I set out to do 6x400 at 2:15 goal pace. 4 miles total.

I am obviously broken, because I felt SO GOOD at number 6, I decided to make it 8x400.

I sort of regretted that decision half way through interval 7, but by then it was too late. I was committed.

This is why I love 400's. They're over SO FAST (hopefully), it's easy to talk yourself into just a few more.

Anyway. Planned 10 min warm up, 6x400 @ 2:15, then cool down to total 4 miles
Actual 10 min warm up (.78), 8x400 @ 2:14, 2:11, 2:10, 2:05, 2:06, 2:00, 2:06, 1:57. 200 RI. .25 cool down.

Everything about this run reminded me of WHY I love running. It wasn't easy. It was fast. I did it on the treadmill, so I got to listen to really, really loud music. I've been pretty much bleh about running lately, so I needed this. It rocked.

I'm not really a fan of the "listen to my body" excuses for myself - I know me, and I know how easily I can covince myself that I'm falling to pieces. So I try to not use "listening to my body" as a reason to skip a run or take it too easy. I almost did it on Sunday, when I almost skipped the 6 Hour Challenge (really, it was that close). I almost did it again last night, because I was just tired. So I'm glad I sucked it up and just did it.

But... I've felt like I've been on the edge of a giant cold for days, and it decided to make itself known last night around 2am. Coughing, sneezing, general achiness. I haz it. I don't know. Maybe sometimes I err too much on the side of ignoring myself.

Whatever. That run was totally worth the Cold of Death that has taken residence in my head.

Sometimes, my body is kind of a little bitch.