As usual, it took me five miles to hit my groove (and by "groove" I mean: ENDORPHIN CRACK-A-LACK-A-DING-DONG) and then I only had a couple more miles to go before it was over. I wanted to run more! Which means I'm already starting to think that by next year I'll be ready for my first full marathon. Maybe this one would be a good fit. We'll see.
The drive home was somewhat spectacular. I finally had the courage to hit some of the pit stops I've been avoiding for a while. Like my favoritest bridge of all time: BRIDGE OF THE GODS.
I'm not sure anyone noticed, but I haven't run a SINGLE Columbia River Gorge trail. My house is actually closer to Multnomah Falls than it is to Forest Park and yet... I've been avoiding it. Too many memories. The gorge will always belong to Joel. It was his place. His history. His Old Highway. And it was strange to take Lola there. I felt like we were missing a passenger. Like I was driving through some beautiful unmade memory.
Maybe I was still cracked out on endorphins, but I wasn't sad. Only nostalgic. Grateful for the memories I have and optimistic about the million more I get to make on my own. And now that I've popped that cherry, I have all those trails to look forward to! I wonder how long it'll take me to get to the top of Multnomah Falls? Talk about running through wet salad.
Now that I'm back, it's, well, PRETTY FUCKING INTENSE (as opposed to camping, which is fucking IN TENTS) (Ha!). I have the kids. I'm working every day this week, including Saturday. And Sunday we're having a garage sale. Moving is stressful enough, so why I decided it was a good idea to move during my busiest few weeks of work while ALSO trying to train for another half marathon (on August 17th) I will never understand. If I can pull it all off without dying, that medal will feel like a million bucks.
Wish me luck.