Tales of a reluctant half-marathon runner

Last week (has it only been a week?), I ran the Clarksburg Country Run. You might recall that the night before the run, I started getting a cold, which meant wheezy breathing and tough running. And I was still trying to figure out whether my back was going to hold up for 13 miles (hint: it didn't).

So -- what do you do but go and there and just do what you can do? There's not much else to be done. It was an interesting day -- I decided not to bring my camera, and I missed out on some fun photos. Like when a dog ran from a yard and started run with us -- for several miles.

Starting off in the a.m. Chilly start, but this was the latest start-time I've seen -- after 9 a.m.

And ending up. Got a medal. Got a shirt. Got a smile.
But this is more accurate.
The fun thing about running long distances (beside pretending I'm a runner when really I'm not. Which just makes me an actor, not a runner, which is probably more my style. It's like artful lying), is getting medals, and finding a little corner in my house to display them without really displaying them. Mine hang on a picture frame of family photos.
After that run, I more or less was laid out for a week and I want nothing more than to just have a good workout, minus the wheezy, sneezy pain.