Three miles, the total number of miles I have gone this week (I count Sunday as day one). I'm quite proud of myself. One-point-six of those miles were actually "run," the rest I walked. I am waiting on my orthotics, trying to be patient since I'm supposed to wait until I have them to start running again. So far though, I haven't had any problems.
Now I'm set with the dilemma of making a current running plan, with thoughts of running a half in January I better get to it! I want to build my base until January and then start marathon training then, for an April marathon. I plan on doing either the Oklahoma City or Nashville, they are both at the end of April, I'm thinking these are my best options.
I'm praying my guts out that my legs, hips and stress fracture hold up, and I can run the full in April, we'll see. One day at a time. The fun thing is that no matter what race I do, even though I won't do it before I'm 30, I know I'll have friends along. A few are planning to do the half and maybe, just MAYBE (I'm not naming names) a couple might run the full with me. Either way we will all be in it together! Needless to say I'm thrilled. I, in fact, squealed like a little girl. Multiple times. In public. And clapped. Loudly. I may have even looked slightly "dim," it's hard to say. I have no shame.
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