Yesterday I ran (ran/walked) a 10k race for the first time - it was such a huge deal to me (I perhaps haven't communicated that properly to people in my life) and I was thrilled to come in under the target I set for myself, with a time of approximately 82 minutes. I know that's not exactly a world class time for 10km, but I'm really pleased. I walked rather a lot of it, and there were a lot of hills on the course, but my pace was pretty good for the running bits, and all I can do now is improve.
I got a bit upset last night about the fact I didn't have anyone celebrating with me, or waiting for me at the finish line, etc. I know it's daft to expect otherwise - I hadn't explained to people the importance of the race, and I hadn't asked anyone to support me, but it was a pretty bittersweet evening.
Today at work, I find myself idly doodling numbers on a scrap of paper. On closer inspection, I have extrapolated my best 5km time up to the 10km time, and worked out how long, therefore, it might take me to complete a half marathon. *blushes* How silly.
I don't even LIKE running. In fact, I actively dislike it. I just like what running does for every other minute of my day.
In other news: the scales this morning showed the lowest weight they have for more than 3 years, at 13st3. I still have quite some way to go, but it feels like I'm on my way.
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