Last Long Run

On Wednesday I did my last long run before the race. It was the same route I took on May 26th. I wanted to see if I had improved. Then, I jogged it in three hours and 26 minutes, which was 40 seconds longer per mile than my training plan dictated.
I sometimes say "run", but jogging or brisk walk more accurately describes my locomotion when I do my exercises. Nevertheless, I'm happy to report that I did the most recent 20-miler in three hours and nineteen minutes; corresponding to a sub-ten minute per mile pace. The training plan had me do it at a 10:05 pace. That last rest week must have helped.
That's it for long runs. Next week is a twelve-miler, then an eight, and then it is race week. Some tempo work and speed runs, but none of that hours-long grueling endurance stuff.
Part of being faster was that I sped it up a little over the last six miles or so, because my poor arithmetic skills get even worse when all my oxygen is concentrated in my thighs, and not much is going on in my brain other than "push, push, push, ...". I thought I was going much slower than my actual speed. While a 20-mile run is not easy for me, this one was not horrible. Not that I was jumping up and down for joy afterwards; my legs wouldn't take that, but I was not completely dead. A couple of ibuprofen took care of the problems I had.
I had occasional cramping in my left calf, and over the last two miles my right knee started acting up again. Most of March and April I couldn't do the runs I was supposed to do, because my knees were killing me. I need to be careful to make sure that doesn't come back just before the race!
At mile 19 I was huffing and puffing through a park. A bunch of girls were sitting in the grass snickering at me. After a long run, I look like a Borg with the water tube of my camelback sticking out to the side and me all worn out.
One of the girls yelled out "Nice legs!" to me. I guess it's nice to be not completely invisible to the sub-twenty set. Even if it is just for them to taunt me. My legs sure didn't feel nice at that point.
It's better than what happened to me a few years back when I was running around Academy. A group of much younger kids passed me with their gym instructor. A boy, who barely reached my hips, turned around, gave me the thumbs up and said: "Good job!". Then I got passed by a slightly taller girl whose T-shirt read: "I bust mine, so I can kick yours."

You be the judge