The Big 20. Warning: It wasn't pretty.

Last night, I prepared mentally and physically for my last long training run. My playlist was organized, my Garmin was charged, everything was good to go.

I wanted to get in at 4 miles before I met up with my two(!) running friends. I lollygagged over my oatmeal and then only had 25 minutes before meet-up time, in which I was determined to get in 3 miles. Which may have been stupid. I got in 3 in just over 26 minutes which is the fastest 3 consecutive miles I've ran in a while. (I'm really itching to train for a speedy 5K once I get through this marathon.)

The next 10 miles were fun, easy, carefree and filled with chatter with my two friends. We ducked inside my house once and the old McDonalds once to refill our water bottles. The weather was sketchy at a couple different points and we got completely drenched about mile 8 (their mile 5). I may have wimped out at that point if I had been by myself because I knew what wet socks/shoes were going to do to the rest of my run. We decided to keep rolling though.

After I dropped them off, I just had 7 left. Due in part to my speed shenanigans in the first 3 miles and in part to being soggy, it was kinda rough. I never doubted that I'd be able to finish, but it definitely was not kin to the euphoric 18 and 16 mile runs of past weeks. I was barely plodding along in the last two miles. (I really, really wanted someone to pass me on the sidewalk or roll down their car window and say, "Whoa. You look tired. How long you been running?" So I could say, "18 miles, but I've just got 2 left." I guess to justify how horrific I looked. It didn't happen.)

In any case, the beast has been slain! I'm so thrilled that I've made it through the roughest part of the marathon training uninjured and smiling. Now it's taper time! : )