Ten. Plus.

I probably wouldn't feel like an 80-year-old woman with severe osteoarthritis this morning had I ::airquote:: just ::airquote:: done 10 miles. But, nooooooo. I couldn't stop at 10.

No, really. You see, when I peeled off my jacket at about mile number six, my car key fell out of the pocket. And I didn't realize that I wouldn't be able to get in my car until, oh, about mile number nine.

I finished the run [in an hour and 56 minutes] and then really had no choice but to start walking back to find the key. I did have an ace in the hole, but even that didn't help a whole bunch.

You'd think the ace would be my cell phone, wouldn't you? I did have that with me, but it would have been much more useful had it fallen into the ditch. I pulled it out to find the dreaded "No Service" message. [When you live in the Middle of Nowhere, low bars are the rule, rather than the exception.]

Mr. Shrinking Knitter had taken his car in for service and promised to return home on my running road. I hadn't walked more than half a mile when he came around the bend. We drove slowly all the way back to the other end of the road, but didn't see the key. The only remaining option was to walk. I got out and started at the 4.5-mile mark, he drove three miles, parked the car and starting walking toward me.

I found it shortly after I started walking.

So I ended up running a good, solid 10 miles and then walked/jogged another four or so.

I am woman. Hear me roar. Heh.

I am mulling over your fit-or-fat comments, and I hear you. Yes, I know I'm fit. At least, fitter than I was a year ago. I realize it's quite possible to be at a healthy weight and not be fit. But I'm still on the fence about whether one can claim to be fit and still be overweight. Fitter ... yes. Fit? Maybe. Thanks for the comments; I'm so glad you not only read my drivel but think about it, as well.

And the bowls? I'm on number five so far. Cute, cute, cute! Can't wait to felt them. Pictures soon!

Thirty-four days until race day.