I will admit, it’s not been my best couple weeks running. The last weekend in April I ran a Race Weekend here where I live.  I had registered for a 10k on the Saturday night and a 21k on the Sunday morning. I told myself during training and repeatedly the week before the race, that I would ‘race’ the 10k, but that I wouldn’t worry about time for the 21k since it was the very next morning.  I would just treat it like a fun long run and get it done.  No stress. And as usual, that’s the opposite of what I did. I raced the 10k, that much is true.  I even came in with a Personal Best at 55min, which impressed me considering the hilly course and the abundance of ingested mayflies.  I was happy with my run and my effort and my time on Saturday night and I took an Epsom bath and went to bed early. Sunday morning, however, I did nothing that I said I would. After a few false starts getting out the door (I thought I grabbed the wrong drink (I didn’t but went back anyways) and I forgot my Gamin), I lined up with all the other runners. I already felt like I didn’t fit in.  In my none-trendy but functional white compression socks and all black cotton tank top and running shorts, I felt frumpy and chubby in a sea of brightly coloured athletic wear and tall college students.  Looking at the course record sitting at barely 10 minutes longer than my 10k the night before, I felt slow.  Especially when my barely rested legs still felt sore and tired…