A few weekends ago, Lee and I ran with a team from our church in the St. Peter’s Kilometers 10K race on Skidaway Island. I hadn’t run 6 miles very often since my half-marathon in January, and boy could I tell. The morning was clear but quite warm, and my energy really waned in the last couple of miles. I found this frustrating, knowing I’d tackled more than twice the distance only a few months prior.

The next weekend I went out for a late-morning four-mile run on a day that was even hotter, and the results were even worse. When I reached the halfway point at Forsyth Park, it was a good thing the only way to get back home and rest was my two feet – if I’d had the option to quit the run right there I might have done that.

So Lee and I have begun setting our alarm clocks early, getting in our runs before the day begins to warm. And just one week after that miserable 4-miler, I was reminded not to let a couple of tough runs get me down. I set out at dawn for a 6-mile run, determined to regain my conditioning at that distance.

Every step was pleasant. Car traffic was light. Pedestrians were friendly. The city looked crisp and inviting that morning. As I approached Bay Street, my turnaround point, the sun was rising beautifully over the Savannah River and I decided to extend my run. I walked down the cobblestone path to Riverstreet and ran there, adding another mile to my trip and happy to do so.

Riverstreet at DawnI didn’t set any speed records for myself, but it was nice to feel good out there again. I was reminded that each run, while building on the run before it, is its own run. A few discouraging runs don’t signal a trend, because there’s always the next run, and it might just be a great one.

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