I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Dan, shouldn't a runner of your age and experience know better?" Ah, yes. Age and experience. I'm partial to the word, 'seasoned.' But I guess I don't. (Know better, that is.)
The segment was done. A few relatively fast folks had appeared at Brunswick Lake for the Saturday group run, and I had been trying my darndest to stay with them on the trip to Plum Creek and then around the lake. I had also done some local miles around home and had jogged over for the relatively late 6:30 A.M. start. Now, as we talked and as my friends began preparing to drive away, I realized a few things.
1) I realized that I had over 15 miles, so far. Just jogging back home would get me up to 18-ish, and this would be fine, except 19 or 20 would be better. The miles had been good ones, so far. Running fast with friends helps.
2) I realized that I was still feeling fairly fine. This was also a good thing, considering yesterday's debacle of being hit by an atomic bomb.
3) I realized that I had just stepped in fresh dog poop. I furiously began trying to rub my shoes in the grass and water puddles.
4) I realized that I was chafing. I'm always aware that once you feel something like this, it's too late to do anything to remedy it. The best thing to do is to stop running. Except I couldn't - I had to get home. And darn it, I really, really needed to get back to doing long runs, with today being the day.
Yes, I had taken some measures to prevent the chafing, but I'd obviously applied the anti-chafing stuff in not quite all of the correct places. Got to be more thorough. I made it home, though. I looked funny running with that condition, but I made it.
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