Today’s run was 8 G.A. (that’s General Aerobic in Pfitzinger-speak) w/10 x 100m strides. I was happy to be back up to speed today, those recovery and long runs kind of scare me with how slow they’re supposed to be. I have to remind myself that it’s all for the greater good, but it can still make a gal paranoid that she’s losing it.

Plus, I made a stupid error for my last 3 Thursday runs…I realized the other day that they were supposed to be G.A. pace, but because I’d been bopping back and forth between the 55/18 and the 70/18 plan, I got confused and did those runs as “mid-longs” (meaning: treating them the same as long runs, first portion 20% slower then MP pace, then up to 10% slower), but that’s just for the 70 plan, the 55 Thursday runs are a bit shorter, thus G.A pace. So I was running them too slow, like 20 seconds/mile too slow.

It’s not life or death, progression runs are great lessons in their own right, but it did make me a little paranoid that now, I must kick all GA runs in the pants! So I did today. Started at 8:50/mile, then went steadily downwards to 8:31, then did the strides and a cooldown. I didn’t intentionally do it progression-wise, in fact I told myself to shoot for 9:00/miles but after the Thursdays gaffe, my body & brain decided otherwise.

Other than that, I wore a new pair of shorts today, Nike Pacers. They are supposedly the Tempo Short’s “sister”, at least that’s how the marketing blurb describes them. I thought they’d be good because the piping is smaller, so maybe there’d be less chance of chafing, plus they’re a little more fitted, so the butt looks less diaperish.

Hrumph! Tempo short’s retarded sister, maybe. The stupid legs kept folding up creating a cuff! Talk about the chafe of hell waiting to happen – thank god I used body glide before I left. Anyway, now I have a new pair of knock-around shorts because those aren’t ever going on a run again. Bad, bad shorts.

And now let us contemplate the many intricacies of running fashion and overrated companies like Nike. Or not. (note to self: must get new smilies, these are extremely lame). Chow, dahlings…

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