It had been several hours since my last meal, when I finished work. Before dinner, I suited and booted up my new kicks, and decided to go for a light run. Intending only a light test of my new VFF, I forewent any stretching or warm up. I started off around the block, but just kept going down the main road. I hadn't noticed a discernible difference in the shoes, which was one reason I kept going. I turned the corner at the next main street, and did pick up on my change in running style. I was landing mid-foot and pushing off from the ball of my foot. It was impossible to hammer down my heal, which would create a braking effect. Doing so ends with a painful jolt to the heal, so I had to run as if I were barefoot. I pushed further with ease, until I rounded the corner back towards home. Knowing that I was almost done caused a desire to just give in and walk the last bit. Running away from home was no trouble, even after I started to reach my limit. I suppose knowing I was almost done caused me to hit 'the wall.'
Upon arriving home, I felt as if I were about to lose control of my bodily functions. I flopped on the bed to catch my breath. After a tall drink of water, I decided to finally eat dinner.
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