The plan was 10 miles. I figured to hell with it and finished the run to Troy: 13 Miles. When I’m done running the beast at the end of the month I will never run more than 5 miles again.
If you want to know why we’ve gone soft as a people, consider the fact that I feel like I’ve accomplished something today.
Double so, the fact that the last 2 miles I was glad I was armed. The last few miles of the trail are out of sight of the highway. Does this mean I was concerned with wildlife? No. Aliens.
Seriously, if they did that to me, that guy would have found a 230 grain hole in him. I’m not kidding. I don’t joke around about aliens. Insert the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in a movie:
