My Christmas runs are usually painful. I run a little bit later in the morning than normal (which messes with my system) and, when I finally do get going, my belly is filled with a quart of coffee and 3 pounds of my mother's delicious homemade cranberry coffee cake. My stomach usually does cartwheels, but this year all was good. I ran on asphalt for the first time in a week and passed families strolling and merrily wished all those I saw a Merry Christmas. I got in a solid 9. I timed the first mile (6:50) and the last mile (6:12). I felt pretty good and contemplated a second run, but I instead drowned myself in bourbon, gravy and other terrible, yet excellent, things. I must have gained 10 lbs.
I awoke on Saturday and joined Matt Clark for a long run starting from our old high school. Temps hovered in the high 30s enabling some snow melt. We ran along the coast and talked about what was wrong with high school running. We laughed about stupidness and time went by rather quickly. 18 in 2 hours.
I am bombing back to Maryland at first light tomorrow (Sunday).