Earlier this week.

Preston: Don’t you have a half marathon in a few weeks?

Me: Um, yeah, three weeks. 

Preston: Don’t you think, maybe you should actually be doing some running?

Me: I’m biking and walking, and I ran 6 miles last weekend.

Preston: That’s not even halfway there. I thought you said you wanted to PR?

Me: Alright! Fine! I’ll run once this week and then do a long run this weekend! Geez!

Preston: I was just concerned for your well-being. I don’t want you to die. 

Me: I won’t die! Sheesh. And, I think I’ve decided, maybe I’ll just let my best time be my first ever half marathon. Who said you have to PR at every race?

So, on Wednesday I went out and ran 3 miles around the church while Maya was at religion class. Then today I ran 10 miles. Man, I really showed him who wasn’t going to die. Booooom!

And I only really ever felt like dying one time. Right around the 8 mile mark, I may have thought about calling him to see if he would pick me up. But then I thought maybe there would be judging and more, “I’m really concerned about you” talks. So I powered through, like any non-competitive person would do.

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