View of Florida Street from "Our" Trails
The time comes for our first fast mile and off we go. Somehow I manage to stay a few feet ahead of Ang. It seems that my legs are working entirely on their own. They don't even need me to tell them to speed it up. My inner drill sergeant doesn't speak quite yet. We are on an incline and my lungs are letting me know. I push in an effort to finish sooner. "Stop!" she yells and I turn the brakes on. We jog at a snail's pace and get ourselves together. First mile, not too bad. The next mile is a slight decline. That should be nice.
And it was. Two down, Two more to go. Off we go for the third repeat, up the incline once again. This time around my legs feel shaky. I am regretting my late night run on the treadmill the night before. This is my fourth day of running in a row, something I have tried to avoid after my overuse injuries. I realize I am making excuses and push harder. The inner drill sergeant is talking now. Angela keeps turning to check on me. This frustrates me. I yell at her to stop looking at me; it makes me self-conscious and reminds me that I am behind her. The incline feels like a mountain this time around. Another mile done and my legs come to a screeching halt. My head feels fuzzy. I have the same feeling as when I stand up too fast. I like this feeling. A natural high, but short lived.