Running with the devil

I did it! We did it!

Yesterday, the fella and I had to take our walk during the day since we had plans with friends last night and knew that our nocturnal walking (our prefered time what with this summer’s record temps … and maybe because we’re vampires …) would most likely not end up happening.

We had been talking on the way to the levee where we like to get our walk on about how, since we’ve been doing this a while (both when we’re together and when we’re apart), that maybe it’s time to kick it up to the next level. So me, being the brave soul that I am who’s trying to continue her momentum and push herself to new heights, said I was ready to give running longer than a minute a try again, so the fella suggested that we walk .25, run .25 for the duration of our four-mile trek.
On a day that was 90 degrees, humid and sunny, by the way.

We started walking, and when we hit .25, we started jogging side by side. I loved that we were doing it together, our feet hitting the pavement with the same cadence, or so I think because after about 30 seconds, all I could hear was the pounding of what must have been my dying heart in my chest and my lungs gasping for what surely was their last breath.

I quit the first round before the halfway mark, croaking for the fella to continue on, that I’d catch up when he stopped. We did that cat-and-mouse game for most of the walk, and though I never did finish a full .25, I came thisclose – which is that much closer to my goal.

I guess I could say I had a good Satanday workout … get it? Get it?

Sure, I’m embarrassed as all get out that he had to see me wuss out like five times, but he was so very encouraging – and inspiring. I was jealous to see him, in the perfect form he’s had since his high-school track-star days striding ahead of me like a champion without stopping because it’s just second nature for him, but I’d catch my breath, and force myself to go on, to cross the next .25 marker jogging, not walking.

It was a great walk/run, and by the end of it all, I actually ended up running a total of one full mile, which I am so proud of.
The fella logged a 1.25 mile run and was never so far ahead of my walking that he had to wait very long for me to catch up. So I guess I’m not a total wuss, right?? 

After we got in the car and waited for the AC to wash over us like the showers we so desperately needed, I plugged my info into My Fitness Pal and found out that my interval excursion blasted exactly 666 calories.

I’ll raise a devil horn to that!


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