I MAY HAVE CROSSED THE LINE. Last Saturday I ran with someone writing an article for the Ann Arbor Observer on our local running groups. I told him that up until a couple of years ago I’d hated running distances, and that while I wasn’t sure I liked it yet, I was at least much more tolerant of it.

And then came tonight’s run.

I’d skipped Tuesday’s group hill repeats or Marie’s assigned fartleks because my legs were feeling sluggish. Tonight, they were still a bit stiff, so I planned on around an 8:00 pace. But when the lead group settled into a 7:30 pace after the first mile, I felt good enough to stay with them. My adjusted stride (see my June 22 post) had smoothed out; on some stretches it felt almost like I was gliding. When we stopped at the park’s water fountain at the five-mile mark, I was actually disappointed that we had only one mile to go.

Last year at this time a six-mile fast run in hot weather would leave me drained. Tonight, when a couple people ran by us at the finish to complete their full six miles, I caught up and joined them just to get in a little more. Could it be that I *enjoyed* this run? And that I might be starting to enjoy the idea of running for its own sake?

This is freaking scary.