I got my ass kicked tonight. I convinced The Husband to run with me so I could take a route I won't take by myself if there's any chance I'll be on it after sunset (rather secluded, unlit, paved recreational trail). However, The Husband is much faster than I am, so I knew I was going to have to work hard to keep a pace that wouldn't have him regretting accompanying me. The first mile was around a nice ten minute pace. The second mile was a scorching 9:40-something. Mile 3 was ugly since I spent a good chunk of it walking and trying to catch my breath. After a quick stop at my Mom's house for a drink of water, we headed home and started doing 1/4 mile intervals with walking/jogging recovery periods. That's where the ass-kicking truly began. The first one was just under 8 minute pace. The second one was somewhere in the 7:40's. I don't even remember the pace of the last one (and I'm too lazy to go upload my Garmin data right now), but it was faster than the previous one and uphill. Yeah...total ass-kicking and I loved it. Running with The Husband is awesome because a) he comes up with the best informal speed workouts and b) it really forces me to push beyond what my comfort zone. Of course the company is nice too!