After a couple of weeks of one mile, "get this over with runs," the royal running "we" busted out a nine miler. Busted out probably isn't a very apt description of the pain, suffering, walking and waddling that made up the run, but I did hit the distance. It would have been better wearing one of those sweet Burger King paper crowns, but the royalty part will have to remain a metaphorical reference to the approximate 20 minutes I spent in multiple visits to the porcelain throne during the run. (Mental note: No more power bars before runs.) I'm sure if someone had taken a picture it would have looked very..uh... regal....
9.0 in 1:50 including time spent making kingly expressions
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