Miles away
Nerves. Somehow I can escape my thoughts now and then, but my stomach is tingling. It knows what's coming. It's trying to tell my legs. It's trying to tell my feet. I'm trying to settle it, but since I left work, the stomach has giggled in nervous anticipation.

It's a mile. The first in years. I'm boldly predicting 4:46. Results later. I'm off to eat a PBJ and drink some more water to fill what I cannot settle. Stay tuned.

Results
There is some level of tragedy in knowing your body so well. It doesn't leave a lot of room for surprises. 4:46 turned out to be a bit bold. I was on pace through 2 laps and just a tad slow through 3, but I had no kick for the last lap and ended up running 4:51. I'm relatively pleased. It's been a humbling few years now. It was a little sad to be starting the last turn while the crowd cheered on the finishers. It's a lot more fun up front, but I knew from the get-go that I didn't belong in the front. I ran my race and I battled as much as I could with those around me. It was a solid steady effort and nothing to be ashamed of. I'm quite proud of myself for hopping into the fast heat. I hemmed and hawed because there was a heat for people planning to run between 4:50 and 5:20. I had a hunch I was going to be flirting with 4:50, but I decided that the faster group would push me. I'm glad I stood firm because the previous group had a 5:06 victor. It would've been a hollow victory. Instead I got a somewhat meaningful third-to-last-place finish.

I'm pleased, really I am. The back of the pack is still an unfamiliar place for me and not one I necessarily want to live in. The positives:
*solid steady effort
*no unusual pains
*a time/ I did it.
*that was one happy hour. Watching track meets, even (or especially) just miles is a cool thing. I kind of liked being around runners.
*it was a real mile- 1609 meters.