I have a case of the Fuckits. I knew it wasn't going to be good, but then again, I didn't think it would be this bad. But to be fair--it wasn't completely my fault (thank you, Mother Nature).
We started the 15 miles, and things were going well. The sky wasn't too ominous, cloudy but not bad. We hit the turn around at the sledding hill near Soldier Field and the heavens opened and the Good Lord seemed to smite us! It was in-freakin'-sane! We made it to the tunnel just north of Roosevelt and regrouped. Between the lightning and hail, we decided to bail (safety first!) and head to a bar. (Have I mentioned I LOVE my running group?!)
So we made it 8 miles, and headed to an Irish pub. Isn't marathon training fun?
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