The zone

When I began my marathon training journey I felt like I should do something good with all of the time I would be spending putting one foot in front of the other. Explore the depth of humanity. Develop an outline for the Great American Novel.

Then I remembered the meditation class I took once and realized I'd be better off getting out of my head and into the zone. The blissful zoned-out state, that is.

And I've gotten better at losing my firm grip on reality. Particularly after the sugar-high of slamming a goo gel. So what did I think about during my three-hour, 18-mile run with Husband last weekend (2:53 for the record) beyond when to take walk breaks, how many miles left, etc.?

1. Noticed that I had a new hot spot leaving a bloodstain on my shoe (adding to the carnage of last week's toe blister explosion 2007).
2. Noticed my new running top encouraged sweat to pool around my nipples, highlighting their existence. Sweet.

That's about it. That and what good is running 18 miles if you don't get to talk about it. Man that's a long time to be doing anything.