Meg and I went all Kara Goucher on our 8-mile long run this morning. Okok, no, we did not actually set world records, or appear as a blur along the path. But we did run fast for us. We didn't time the run, but from the pacing work I've done this spring I'm pretty sure it was at least 15 seconds/mile faster than what we've been doing. It felt good to run the last 8-miler at race pace, especially because it was windy and cold and any reasonable person would have rather sat inside drinking coffee. But oh no, our chapter of Overachievers Anonymous over here kicked our long runs in the pants. At one point I accused Meg of setting the pace at "Death March of Crazy," but I secretly loved it. The other 6 people from the Team who came all did 10 milers (at least), because they're awesome. I'm not sure about their times (though I'm sure they were great) because Meg and I started & finished early. A move about which The Gangsta had some choice words.
I promised belated pictures from Detroit and here they are. First, it was not a can of tomatoes. It was canned pumpkin. Duck taped. True story.