Running Mis-steps

My Fitbit was somehow in logging mode while I drove home from Albany and it interpreted my bumpy ride down the Catskills as me having climbed 244 flights of stairs and having ran 11 miles.  This was going to be a hell of a nuisance to the integrity of my pedometer data unless I were to run a half marathon.  So I did.

The first 10 miles passed quickly as I was watching Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels and keeping a 6 MPH pace.  The next mile was tough and for the last two and a tenth I felt bored out of my skull and may have wanted to die a little.  My motivation was going to be able to say “screw you, Clara” after her “I’ll be able to walk tomorrow” comment.

I finished in a little over two hours and twenty minutes and hobbled off my treadmill.  I showered, sat down, and couldn’t easily get up again.  Maybe Clara was right in the end in that annoying Oracle at Delphi kind of way.