- 5k: Start to Finish (late July 2009), 24:51. No Shelby.
- 4-mile: Westport St. Patrick's Day Run (13 March 2010), 33:05. Shelby!
- 10k: Pilgrim Pacer (mid-November 2009), 52:04.4. Shelby!
- Half-marathon: Georgetown to Idaho Springs (early August 2009), 2:03: ??. No Shelby.

I'm losing hope that I will be able to do my first marathon this year, though, because my sesamoiditis problems made a come back. Embracing a 3-day a week running program (with two cross-training days) and going to a sports medicine doc has helped tremendously. However, I run so much on my toes/forefoot and have high enough arches that I just don't think my toe can take anything longer than a half. We'll see. I'd rather be able to keep running shorter distances than end up side-lined with injuries because of training for longer distances.
Part of my problem is I like being able to take off from my doorstep, which means running on uneven, crappy concrete side walks. I don't like the idea of driving to run, but a good compromise might be to drive to a trail to do my weekend long runs. Shelby and I would both enjoy the change in scenery, and running on trails or grass would be much easier on my entire body. Looking out on today's early spring snow, I'm not sure we'll be making any treks out today, but this is something to consider for future weekends.
Another topic I've been r

The whole process of (unexpectedly) falling in love/getting addicted to running and dealing with frustrating injuries has been a good experience for me in acknowledging limitations (in particular, anatomical limitations), assessing and re-assessing the goals I had become obsessive about (like doing a marathon this year), and making accommodations to get at the base issue: I want to be able to keep running, no matter the distance, simply because I enjoy getting out with Shelby. If/when I keep that base issue in mind, I stop feeling frustrated and end up doing a much better job of accepting the bad/hard days and injuries.
Now, I need to apply this process to other areas of my life . . .
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