When running on crowded roads, assume everyone driving is:
1. Drunk or on crack
2. On their way to Walmart in a hurry in their Hummer to buy a supersize 2 liter soda, a singing Santa made in China, a bicycle horn, and a "Livestrong" bracelet. You are just an obstacle in the way of this perilous and urgent and perilous mission.
He's only exaggerating about the crack.
Running from my pleasant, temporary, abode at the Hagley Library to the beautiful running at Brandywine Creek State Park I actually saw several SUVs careen by, the driver on a cellphone, Christmas trees on top, and Target bags in the trunk. I don't know if they were on crack. Or drunk.
This part of New Castle Co. (DE) is something else compared to my normal running haunts. Most of the cars round here seem to be German. The people with just a Volkwagen Jetta are the poor people. The local poor people in their Jettas weren't trying to run me down. But the people in the Mercedes ... I swear some of them were using that emblem on the front to line me up and run me down if I got in the way of them getting back to their estate for whatever rich people do when they're at home. You know, the rich, they're different from you and me (they have more money).
Saturday was the first run since the marathon (two weeks ago) that I felt "good." Good is totally subjective, but defined here as I wanted to go further at the end of an hour, and I found myself back to my normal practice of pushing the pace when I came to a hill. Longest time it's taken me to get to that point after a marathon. Typically I feel good about a week afterwards. It was great not to hit any wall at the marathon, but the ability to race all the way to the finish meant I was more beaten up by the whole thing. When you hit the wall and have to do the survival shuffle for several miles your body is protecting itself by not letting you go any faster. An extra week of laggardly feeling runs is a small price to pay for a PR so I ain't complaining ...