Like A Mechanical Hound

The following is an email I sent just three minutes ago to the group I am running the Wasatch Back Relay with next week, on June 22 and 23:

I know, I know. You probably thought that this was an urgent, rushed email started at 2:59 in the morning, informing all of you of some blood-borne illness I contracted in the night, rendering me unable to run my legs for Wasatch Back. 'Tis not true!! I am in perfect working order, only here to tell you of my adventures this morning. The night ended with Jean Valjean dying in the arms of his daughter, Cosette, and I thought to myself that this night couldn't possibly continue to get any better.
Upon returning home around 11:45, I slipped into bed with my computer to check forums and blog postings from the day that I had been absent for, (including Katie C's most recent post, which admittedly, made me cry) and soon told myself that I had to sleep. 1:15 rolled around and I just couldn't bring myself to end the night. So I arose. I knew that what followed had to be done. I slipped on my Avias, turned the iPod on shuffle, and just started running. And running. And running.
As many of you know, I live in a (very) suburban town about 20 miles north of Salt Lake City, called Kaysville. This fact comes in hand in a minute. With bicycle lamp in hand, I just ran, following a 7+ mile course I had set out for a run earlier but didn't take (the run I had taken earlier was 5.6 and was completed only 12 hours prior, in the blazing sun). I counted thirteen cars in all during the 7.4 mile run, three of which were marked Davis County Sherrif, and nine parked. So you know that Kaysville is quite the party.
The streets were empty, and I had the city to myself. Just me, The Beatles, and Mates of State. As I reached the high school, just 1.3 miles from my house, the clock on the marquee read 2:21. I had nine minutes to run that last one-and-a-bit back home. I knew I could do it. My head felt so heavy and the music seemed only to push me harder as I sprinted down a road bordering the nearby experimental agricultural farm. I did it. I rushed through the door, hoping not to wake my family, but still speedily trying to find a clock. 2:29. I had done it.
55 minutes. 7.4 miles. I did it.

Now, some statistics for you:

A 7.4 mile run in 55 minutes translates to 8.072 miles per hour avg and an average mile time of 7:25.946.

I truly cannot wait until next week. I cannot. We must all run on Wednesday once everyone is in town and somewhat settled. A big thank you to everyone who has included me and pushed me to do what I never thought possible. Thank you.

-Thomas Millar