The braid is to blame.

I braided my hair into a long, neat plait in the back to keep it out of my face this morning.

And my run fell all to pieces.

No, I’m not superstitious. I’m not suggesting that changing my “do” brought bad juju down on me. But for sure, the braid is to blame.

I realize this morning that I run to the soft rhythm of a ponytail. Long and swishing, the ponytail helps me keep my pace steady and relaxed. The braid, on the other hand, was a little tyrant, constantly tapping me on the back, insisting that I pick up the pace: Get faster. Go harder. Come on. Come on. Come on.

I dread to think what a bun would do. I would probably just stand in the driveway for an hour, prim and paralyzed.

Note to self: Add “hairdresser” to list of coaches and consultants. I’ve always known that little things make huge differences on a 26.2-mile run, but marathon training is more complex than I remember.