Thursday morning came on cold, colder than I would have liked–the breath caught in my throat, like in the winter, in spite of the fact that it’s now mid-Spring.
Eventually, my body warmed up, as my body caught up with the running. I was then glad that I had made the switch to my shorts again. The go-faster stripe on the side doing its work, as I rounded the corner and headed back through Cleveland Circle and headed back toward home.
What I was worried about was, given my skipped run on Tuesday, I would have to cut the day’s run short. I was also a little concerned that my leg would snap back to its pained state. Neither of these things happened.
I returned from my run, showered and went to work. My evening plans were interrupted, slightly, by a friend from out of town inviting people out for drinks. Said friend was returning to run the marathon–an event that was now a few days away, but had barely crossed my mind in the intervening weeks.
I had still been too busy to really reflect on the events of the previous year’s Boston Marathon. With a busy day still coming, I was unlikely to give it more thought this day either.