So I haven’t exactly followed my running schedule this week. I’ve just had another off week. Working out? Mostly. Running? Not since Tuesday.

I decided to do the long run that I missed – 4 miles – and then we’d do the 6 mile scheduled run on Monday. A day behind schedule. But it would be okay.

We decided to run separately. I procrastinated a little after Nate left. But I walked out the door and found a beautiful cover of snow. Not enough to stick on the sidewalk, just enough to make everything pretty. And set Jake the iPod to the newest episode of Two Fit Chicks, and had This American Life as the back-up. I started to run.

And I ran. And ran.

1 mile. 2 miles. 3 miles. 4 miles. 5 miles.

When I heard I had completed 5 miles, I found myself at the bottom of a hill. A hill that has always scared me.

So I ran up it. I ran down. I ran home. My longest run yet.

How was the pace? Not great. But I don’t care.

It was comfortable. I struggled up the hills, but I recovered well and got back to a comfortable place. It was great.

For the first time, I feel like this half-marathon thing is really possible. Like it’s not just a dream. Like I’m really gonna do it. And it freaks me out a little.

I’m a runner. It’s becoming part of who I am. You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this.

Or maybe you do.

I need to tie this in with my trip to the dentist. But first I need to shower.

To be continued, I guess.