Last. Long. Run.

12 Miles.
112 Minutes.
No aches.
No pain.
No problem.

This run didn't warrant water or gels; didn't stir up anxiety or pre-run carbing; in fact, it barely hit the radar until I was in the middle of mile 7 feeling strong thinking "this would be a little less than one third of what you will run a week from this morning."  

This run was cold and layered, required mittens the entire time and a heavier hat than the one I'd chosen.  It was also eerily quiet for November - more like the way the city is on January mornings - only other runners out moving up and down Spruce and Pine in the beautiful bike lanes as house after house wakes up.

This run was neither the beginning nor the big finish - just another of many in the middle, as unremarkable as they are necessary, checked off but ultimately unwritten.   Like the stationary bike last October and the rowing machine last november; the bench press milestones and the amount of times "dips to exhaustion" showed up in a workout; the dumbbell flies and press on a ball and, of course, the push-ups, these unassuming runs silently filled the space between the races and the recovery.