Uh-oh.

With the discovery of the true meaning of Long Slow, I've found it very easy to extend my running times to upwards of 2 1/2 to 3 hours, tired at the end but by no means exhausted.

The apparent easiness of the gentle running on my body has encouraged me to go out more frequently, running four to five times a week instead of the three I've done since May. And to run on the streets.

On my long run last Saturday I felt the ever-so-slight twinges of pressure on the tendon that flared into full -itis last summer, torpedoeing my thoughts of training for a marathon, putting me into six weeks of no running whatsoever.

Have I overdone it? Am I pushing my luck here by not being more fastidious in obeying the Ten-Percent Rule?

With the culmination of my training season coming this weekend with the Backroads Half, is this thing going to hit me now? Is my running about to go down in the flames of tendonitis?

I'm watching it carefully, resting in Full Taper this week and hoping for the best.

As so often happens in running, I'm forced to confront habits in myself I don't especially like to see. This one has to do with a not-so-subtle tendency I have to feel like I can push against limits. When those limits are imposed by the laws of physics that's not a tendency with great survival value.

I used to say a person should only have kids if he's ready to see who he really is. I'm beginning to realize running has at its core the same level of honesty.