better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick

I woke up excited to run 9 miles this morning.  I drank about a gallon of water last night.  I had some pad thai for dinner and a green papaya salad.  I went to bed before midnight and slept well.  I was smart.  I rested.  I hydrated and ate, more or less, responsibly.

I managed 7 miles.  I ran them at a 9:52 pace.  I felt good until the very end and then I felt my legs start to shut down.  My left knee started to feel a little wobbly and my thighs were starting to tighten.  I felt like I could run through it, but I decided to listen to my legs and shut myself down before I did some damage.  

I walked about half a mile and then I was hobbling.  I could barely put any weight on my left knee.  It was painful.  Then, about 100 yards later, I was fine.  I walked home and stretched for about 20 minutes.  I feel fine now. 

I don't have a good idea of how much I should push myself.  I have spoken to a lot of folk who tell me that I shouldn't even consider running 9 miles until I have logged more runs.  That running that far too soon is a sure way to get injured.  I want to build my distance, but I do not want to do it at the risk of being couch bound.  

So I am trying to listen to my knees and feet and lungs and whatnot.

I am not good at patience.  I know this about myself.  I am not good about letting things grow organically.  Sometimes I just want to get to the finish line without running the damn race.  In my experience, so far, running is about being in the middle of it.   Each step is an acknowledgment of suffering and dealing with it.  I see people out in the park experiencing that and pushing through.  It's very inspiring.  

So I will accept the 7 miles today graciously.  As my mother would say; "Its better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.'.