Fact #2: My incredibly ill-advised stab at becoming a runner last year has left me with a bum foot. I’m actually not really sure what’s wrong with it, which is shocking since I am a certified WebMD. Maybe a stress fracture? Maybe lingering plantar fascitis? Who knows. I can has x-ray?
Fact #3: I still want to exercise–hence? Deep water aerobics!
It’s supposed to be an amazing workout.
…..
It’s reeeeeally not. Certain parts are tough, especially the arm work with the foam rubber underwater weights, that’s the only part of class where I get out of breath. Sadly those sections only last for about the first 20 minutes, then the rest of the hour-long class is taken up by ridiculousness. Like underwater “crunches.”
Note to all water aerobics instructors: You’re on the side of the pool shouting instructions, NOT IN THE WATER. So when you’re suggesting I do this killer ab move…well it’s just really not hard to do when you’re underwater with a flotation belt on and clinging to a flotation noodle. What IS hard is trying to not swallow public pool water (mmmm, urine!) and drown while thrashing around like a damn marlin.
Why the thrashing, you ask? Oh that would be from attempting to do squats while balancing with a noodle under each foot. Squats on dry land? Incredibly effective, and an incredibly simple movement to perform. Underwater squats on noodles? Incredibly ineffective, and insanely difficult to execute without getting a foot cramp or dinged in the back of the head from the noodle flying out from under the old lady behind you.
So here’s the thing, so people stop asking: No, I’m not doing the marathon thing anymore.
It was probably a shite idea from the start, let’s be honest. No one will my complete inability to give up happy hour and cigarettes (to say nothing of cheese and Skittles) (which go GREAT together) was ever really going to be able to do a marathon with only 6 months to train myself from Couch Champion to Marathon Staggerer.
With these daunting odds against me, about 3 months into my efforts (when I was up to pretty good mileage of 7 and 10 milers on the weekends), I hit a perfect storm contributing to my demise, broken down thusly:
a) Plantar Fasciitis, which I have illustrated in Fig. 1 (60% contributing factor in the quittage).
Fig. 1
b) A new relationship, which is a time-suck (albeit a terrific time-suck) (and with a damn chef for crying out loud, hard to work the motivation to run when you’re being served bacon-potato-cheese scrambles for breakfast, as in Fig. 2 (17% contributing to quittage).
Fig. 2
c) Supreme, total, and in every way laziness, which had been battled aside for a couple months when the mileage was low and I was riding high on all the rampant praise and support from friends (”You’re doing a marathon?? Oh my, I wish that I was that committed, I can hardly get out of bed in the mornings!”), but which has slowly taken hold, aided by couches and salty snacks (23% contributing factor to quittage, as per Fig 3).
Fig 3.
Well, there you have it.
For what it’s worth, I’m going to think about paying the minimal fee to transfer my registration to next year. A marathon is still something I really want to do, since my sister seems to enjoy them so much, and believe it or not, I really do like running! I just was struck down in this particular effort.
“You realize it’s still dark out, right now, right? And we’re about to run around and up and down hills and such? Dark out.”
“Yeah! Isn’t it great!?”
“Are we expanding the definition of ‘great’ to include ‘ridiculous’ and ‘nauseating’?”
“You’ll be so glad to have it done and out of the way!”
“I’ll be so glad when I can go back to bed. And what is this? Seriously, I thought the advantage of exercising before dawn was that it’s nice and cool. The air feels like pea soup mixed with phlegm.”
“Well, just imagine how much worse it would be if the sun were out!”
“This is supposed to comfort me? I’m going to end up like that rat in The Abyss that they made breathe in the liquid oxygen. That rat wasn’t too happy.”
“Maybe not, but it survived.”
“Damn you.”
HALP!!!!!
In related news, I received the following email from my dad last week. Now we see where I get it from.
“Wow. I knew I was in bad shape as I have done nothing for some time now. Did not realize how bad it was, but am determined to do something about it….again. I took my man boobed, muffin top body to the treadmill yesterday at my hotel in GA and gave her hell for twenty two minutes (that means a fast walk with varied inclines). After narrowly avoiding a major quad cramp, I survived. So sore today, could not face treadmill, so I brilliantly went to the hotel pool, a small affair outside, but it is a nice day. Water was warm, and while I never swam competitively, I know how to swim. Nobody was mistaking me for Michael Phelps as I looked more like the turd from Caddyshack having a seizure as I wheezed my way across the pool with a vicious breast stroke. Laps and lengths be damned in this event, I carried on for my twenty plus minutes, and now am totally crippled. Capped it off with a few sit ups on the incline board and can’t even laugh at how pathetic this situation is as the painful abs revolt. Upside is I worked up an appetite, and a thirst so tall it casts a shadow.”
I know the feeling, Dad–but the thing is you’re pushing sixty and I’m supposed to be young and strong. After two days of Jillian Michael’s evil “Shred” and one early morning of cross training through Old Town, I am weak in the knees like Timer. I clearly need some cheese.
A slice, a slab, a chunk-a!
Hey, remember when I was training for the marathon? Yeah, technically, I still am. But in reality, I’ve been sidelined for weeks now and I can’t see how I’ll ever be able to do it. My sister claims otherwise. By the plantar fasciitis pain coursing through my foot right now after a morning that included only some running (and also some stairs and some hills and lots of power walking after two girls who claim to not be in great shape but, uh, are) is really saying otherwise.
Regardless, I guess it’s time to get ready for work, to say nothing of my currently desperate coffee situation that needs attending to.
I decided about two and a half months ago that a lazy, portly, anti-exercise, beer-loving, late-sleeping, movie-popcorn-addicted, Diet Coke swilling slug-a-bed could run a marathon.
10 weeks in, I have pretty much reversed that decision, but keep trucking along regardless. I skip days, I oversleep, I’ve cut back on beer but not enough, I cheat on the no-smoking thing all the time, I don’t drink enough water, and I’ve lost maybe 5 pounds since I forced the running bug down my own throat.
Will I ever be able to turn things around in the mere three months before the marathon? I don’t know. The fact that I haven’t actually quit outright so far is a pretty good sign. I did go do 6 miles after work the other night, and if nothing else the fact that I would have never in a million years done such a thing in my pre-training days is at least a sign of positive self improvement.
But still. I suck. And I’m tired. And I’m 99% sure I’ve developed plantar fasciitis in my right foot, and the resulting favoring of that side during runs causes my left knee to go spongy, and my left knee going spongy causes my entire left leg to react in weird ways (otherwise known as throbbing pain).
So basically? I suck as a runner. I have, however, gotten pretty good at pill-taking. Here’s what I just swallowed before sitting down to write today:
Mmmm, glucosamine Aleve vitamin cocktails anyone?
And now? I’m off to chug a bunch of water and try to crank out 7 miles. I will likely end up walk/limping half of it due to my cursed foot and crazy knee. It’s really too bad Apollo Creed got killed–I could use an inspirational running buddy to take me to the beach for sprinting and awkward surfside hugs in crop-tops and short shorts.
Washington? Built on a swamp. Me? Violently ill if I spend too much time in humidity at all, let along while exerting myself. My plan to train for a freaking marathon during a Washington summer? Possibly, probably, ill-advised. And yet, here I am.
I ran four miles tonight at my usual awesomely slow pace and the trail had like three incredibly minor incredibly short uphill sections (six total, I suppose 2 miles out and 2 back). The inclines are short and not steep. Not exactly Heartbreak Hill I’m talking about. And yet, I was wimpy and pwned and used them as an excuse to walk for a minute. It was kind of a sad display.
But it was raining! (Actually that should have made it easier. It was also 68 to 70 degrees max, and breezy. Good lord woman.)
But my ipod was making my pants fall down again! (Actually no it wasn’t, you bought one of those arm band thingies at Best Buy literally right before your run, because you were tired of the constant fear of exposing half of Alexandria to your big white butt.)
But my fingers were the size of Johnsonville Brats! (Actually…this is true. And now I’m hungry.)
*Not my actual fingers, but a solid representation.
No one hates “The Hills” more than me. I could cheerfully toss Spencer Pratt into a vat of honey and then roll him around in some fire ants.
And yet? I’d rather watch an all day marathon (heh) of that crapfest than ever run uphill. I must find a way around this in the coming months, methinks.
Couldn't find a pic of the Runners' Start; but it was just as crowded. Whoo!
Well, for my first race on my Marine Corps Marathon training schedule, I sure did pick a doozy.
45,000 people participated in the Race for the Cure in D.C. this morning. 45,000! It was absolutely great, and definitely made me excited to do more races.
Before I get into the nuts and bolts of the race report, some highlights:
Best Boob-themed T-shirt: There were many, including an entire team of girls running as “Team DD,” but the best one I saw was one that simply read “Tough Titties.” What can I say? I am 8 years old, it made me LOL. The runner-up in this category would have to be the lady wearing a pink cape, with a hot pink bra strapped to her head, and a t-shirt that read “Titty Committee.” Bwah!
Most Disgusting Moment, Part 1: Having minor pre-race tummy issues, no doubt related to nerves, that resulted in the unfortunate forced use of a portojohn. (It’s 2009, is there really NO way to make portojohns less revolting? Whoever does this will be a millionaire overnight.)
Most Disgusting Moment, Part 2: Seeing a man emerge from a portojohn with a donut shoved in his mouth. Ew, dude.
(Al)most Disgusting Moment, Part 3: While waiting (forever) for the race to start, the girl in front of me was bent over stretching and displaying a brown stain on the back of her shorts. I was flummoxed and immediately all “ew, poo!” But then she pulled her ankle to her butt to stretch her quads and I realized it was probably (hopefully) just dirt from her shoes. Good thing, didn’t want to start the race behind a poo-pants.
Disturbing Trend: The number of people with race bibs on that I saw walking around and smoking after the race. I am not a holier-than-thou ex-smoker here; no one’s perfect. But even if I were still smoking…you’re…at a cancer fundraiser. Honestly.
Most Surreal “This Is What My Life Is Now? Wow” Moment: Standing in my bedroom at 545 in the fricking morning on a Saturday (even my cats were like, “Yeah, no. We’re not getting up.”) and lubing up my cleavage with Body Glide. (Hey, it was a breast cancer run, I can talk about cleavage!)
Most Demoralizing Moment: Which is worse, getting passed by the elderly, or by little kids? I feel like I should be able to do 3 miles faster than a 6 year old. They’re energetic, sure, but are 6 year olds really built for endurance? Sigh.
Race Report
Overall Summary: Not terrible, but certainly not good. But it was a LOT of fun, and for the first time since I started training, I even got the endorphin rush “runner’s high” thing I keep hearing about after I was done. Sweet!
Pre-Race: I got up at 5:40. Those of you who know me know that this was probably the biggest feat of the morning. Screw the short little race, I hauled myself out of bed before 6 in the morning. On a Saturday. I don’t do this.
Me So Smahhht: I had to do two extra miles, since there were 5 scheduled on my marathon plan. So? I parked a mile away from the race. Ha! Brilliant. Had to anyway, there was NO parking down there–it worked out great and allowed me to continue my snobby assed “no Metro, no how” stance while living in DC.
Warm-up FAIL: They bring a lady out to lead us in a fun series of group stretches and everyone gets all pumped and “Whoo, let’s DO this!”……and then they make us stand there for 30 minutes or so of pre-race chit chat with all the organizers and a Princess from Serbia and crazy Joe Biden. Warm up! Now stand there! Now run!
Holy Shit, This is a Lot of People: It took ten minutes to get to the starting line, just about, and pretty much the whole first half mile I was literally on top of everyone else, it was insane and very slow-going. I got tangled up with baby strollers, pissed at all the people who started with the runners but walked from the get-go (they had a separate start 15 min later for walkers, wtf people), I was dodging in and out looking for clear routes, people watching all over the damn place…it was just a zoo. A very, very, fun zoo!
Speaking of Walkers: I ran for the first mile and a quarter or so, which would turn out to be a mistake as the humidity started getting to me. In the second half I stopped for walk breaks more than I wanted to; I’m sort of realizing that I need to get a Garmin or a watch, or something that I can use to actually schedule breaks, rather than just taking them whenever. If I could look at my wrist and know “okay only 4 minutes and then you can walk for a minute,” I’d probably be able to hold out a lot longer.
Oh, For the Love Of..: About a mile in, my iPod shut down. I spent half an hour last night picking out the perfect race playlist of songs adding up to the time I was hoping to achieve (40 minutes) and all consisting of peppy, get your motor running type songs. This is not to say I can’t make it 2 miles without music, but I’m convinced my time would have been better with it–I didn’t even get to hear my super motivation song! (”Tessie” by the Dropkick Murphys; I figure if the Sox can come back from 3-0 in the 2004 ALCS against the evil Yankees, then I can certain haul my butt across 3 flat miles.) (2!3!4!)
H2Ooooh! : I really need to get a fanny pack thingie for water. I drank a liter of water between 545 and the start of the race, but was obviously not hydrated enough. There were two water stops, and both times afterwards I experienced a huge rush of energy from just one gulp of water. Next time I’m bringing my own to take a hit whenever I want.
Final Finish: I started fairly strong, but the second half of the race was crappy. Stopped to walk too much, and at times not by choice. I was actually forced to stop for a moment at times and walk around people, because by that point the actual runners were done and I was trapped with the other slow joggers, the Stroller Demolition Derby, other RFs (Runnin’ Fatties, whoo!), the elderly, the 6 year olds…and a billion walkers. Who liked to walk 6 across the road like idiots. Rrrr. I’m not sure what my time was, they won’t be posted for a day or so, I am guessing that it took 8-10 minutes to hit the starting line. So the “official” time on the box when I crossed was 52 minutes, which means it took me 42-45, which seems about right. Not 40 minutes like I wanted, but in line with how I’ve been doing on training runs, so I’ll take it.
Next Race: A 5k for Autism on the 4th of July. I must be nuts, because the 3rd of July is one of the best nights to go out and drink adult beverages at someone’s barbeque. Speaking of…I seriously need to cut back on those. It’s ridiculous. While I am not drinking excessively on any given night, I’m still drinking like every other night of the week. Including last night. Because I’m an idiot. Sure it was only two beers…but you know what would have been better? NO BEERS!
Oh and I drank 2 beers at brunch after the race too. But Brooke says that is not only ok, but encouraged. And as my official Marine Corps Marathon coach, I’m just gonna have to take her word for it.
Raise your hand if you had the Rhythm Ribbons set and totally thought you were the COOLEST GIRL IN AMERICA twirling around with it. Just me, then? I think the best part about Get In Shape, Girl! is that it contributed nothing to actual fitness, if the roly-poly state of my 10 year old (and, um, 29 year old) self is any indication. But damn did I feel cool with that ribbon!
I think leotards need to make a comeback. Not that I’d ever wear one, but I wonder if the “Saved by the Bell” girls look back at that spectacular music video they made for “Hot Sundae” as a part of the Best Saved By the Bell Episode Of All Time and think to themselves, “Thongs for working out? Really?” Oh, 80s fashion, how I love you.
Kelly wears a thong to jump rope, don't you?
Speaking of fitness, tomorrow I’ll be running in the Susan G. Komen foundation Race for the Cure 5k here in Washington, D.C. I’m actually excited for this, if a bit nervous (it has been a long time since I participated in any sort of race that didn’t involve chugging).
The only downside to my participation, aside from the visual horrors I’ll be inflicting on the thousands of other particpants as I shuffle along in my supah-tight racing outfit (I even bought a pink technical for the occasion, which really highlights the more “porcine” elements of my physique, just spectacular), is the fact that I’m due to run five miles tomorrow on the old training schedule, and a 5k consists of only three. Which means that aside from busting booty in the race, I’ll be tacking on an additional two miles! Bah!
I’m not posting a training update this week, because as noted in my previous post, this week was pure crap and it’s just kind of depressing. But I will have a race report (my first one as a sort-of running blogger, aw!) after the 5k, and hopefully start to sprinkle in a few non-running posts for those of you tiring of my incessant rambles on the subject.
My dedication to the marathon training plan has been nothing short of miraculous. Until now.
For five weeks, I missed only one day. Until this week. Where I’ve missed 2 days straight. Sigh.
(That annoying sound you hear is my sister nagging and screeching about how 2 days can set you back, and about how crap I’ve been at the nutrition side of this process, and about how if I don’t get back on track, and I mean tomorrow, she’s going to fly up here and drag me on a run by my hair.)
(Just heading her off at the pass.)
Frankly, I’m exhausted, and a bit worried about injury. I did great last week, posted my best time yet for 3 miles on Saturday, and then noticed my bum knee creaking like an antique rocker for the duration of Sunday (a merciful rest day). Then throbbing and crying out in distress on Monday, particularly when going up and down stairs. So I decided to skip the run, and ice the knee. Then I decided the same thing tonight. Sigh.
The knee has always been a PITA. I busted it approximately 5 different times growing up, 3 times skiing, 1 time playing softball on a frozen lake, and 1 time dancing on a table in college) (oh, Cuervo). It pops pretty easily, but it’s been a few good years since it’s been bad. And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way. Anyone with advice on how to continue training without totally screwing myself up, please speak up. In the meantime, I’ll be getting back to work. Because in the words of President Josiah Bartlet: Break’s over.
So I know all I ever talk about anymore is running and the marathon and such. My friend Dan informed me that my self-deprecating posts about how crap I am at this undertaking are “not as funny as [I] think they are.” (Thanks, DAN! Appreciate the feedback! Have you met my friend, Mr. Suckitdan, yet?)
But this is…pretty much all that’s going on in my life lately that doesn’t involve cats (already widely covered), work (not something I really blog much about), or beer (and that’s happening less and less what with me actually doing exercises that are not “lift drink to mouth, repeat”). And it’s my blog, so if you gotta problem with that, I would like to politely introduce you to a little something I call “The Hand,” and urge you to converse with it.
Ahem. Anyway…
Week four was pure crap. It marked the first time I didn’t cop out on any of the runs or workouts (yay!), but also the first time I really started wondering whether or not I can actually do this thing. I was tired. I walked most of my mileage, bitching all the while, and had some major heat issues on my long run that left my head dizzy and my hands sausage-esque.
My sister also informed me this week that if you can’t make it across a bridge at Mile 19 by a certain time, they re-open the bridge to traffic and you have to take a humiliating “Losers Shuttle” back, effectively forfieting the rest of the race. My new goal, aside from just “finishing alive,” is to not end up riding the Fatty Bus back to Loserville.
So all in all, a demoralizing week. Saturday, I went out on the Mt. Vernon trail to do the four miles round trip up to Reagan Airport and back. It’s a beautiful trail, not very hilly, I can see it being really enjoyable to those who aren’t in danger of keeling over and dying on the ground alongside it, unlike me.
The worst part was the entire second mile, when I was trailing a family out for a pleasure walk. They were flip-flopped tourists, strolling along, carrying shopping bags, conversing. I was behind them, and could not. catch. the eff. UP. No matter how much I gasped or how hard I tried to add a little actual “power” to my power-walking (having abandoned jogging after the first half mile, during which I lost more fluids in the 90 degree heat than that gross guy with the armpit sprinklers in the new Axe deodorant ads). Just a bit unsettling, particularly since they kept looking over their shoulders at me, no doubt confused as to why the drenched tomato making all the racket with the huffing and the groaning couldn’t just pass them already. Eventually they stopped to take pictures, which I interpreted as a pity move. “Let’s just pretend to take a picture so the sweaty dying girl can get by us…cheeeese!”
Then, there’s nutrition. Sigh.
The good news is, I’m officially pissed. The bad news is, after heading to Maine and New Hampshire to visit friends and attend a wedding last weekend, consuming along the way approximately my weight in fried foods and drinks, I managed to lose exactly 0 weight last week. The cheerful lady at Weigth Watchers assured me this was a GOOD thing, as I had babbled to her all my excuses prior to getting on the scale, and I’m sure that running actually did stave off a massive uptick in LB’s….but damnit. i kind of thought I’d get off the hook. This is the most I’ve exercised in months, I can’t have one bad weekend of booze and junk-food consumption without punishment?
I am now ranking my metabolism somewhere in the vicinity of my Mr. Suckitdan, in terms of affecting the mood of this update. So, onto the Facts n Figures:
Week 4 of this Godforsaken Why Did I Do This And Where’s the Emergency Exit Training:
Day 1: Rest Day 2: 2 miles, 29:50, walk/jog, hurt like a sonofabitch. Day 3: 2 miles, 30:30, walk/jog, followed up with Jillian Michael’s Shred, which coincidentally? Also hurt like a sonofabitch. Day 4: Rest (swapped out the rest day this week) Day 5: 2.3 miles, 35:00, walked all of it, and not much different than my walk/jog pace, interestingly. Also did 20 minutes of hills training on staitionary bike, which was a LOT harder than I thought it’d be) Day 6: Cross day, got up early to do the Shred before work. Decided Jillian can also suck it, along with Dan. Day 7: 4 miles, a billion hours, as I had to walk the last mile at around the pace of a paralyzed snail, so as not to, you know, actually die, as opposed to just making jokes about same repeatedly to torment Dan. Must, must, must start doing long runs early in the morning–the 90 degree weather absolutely destroyed me, and my hands swelled up to the size of catcher’s mitts. Also got a bit lightheaded. Very bad day.
Weight: 100 lbs (see previous entry for explanation on this entirely fictional starting weight!). That’s right, after getting all fired up, I lost NO weight. How embarassing. But this week has gone much better on nutrition, except for some missteps this weekend and maybe a bit too much to drink a couple times. Memorial Day weekend during week 2 of a new nutrition plan? Is balls.
(New Mantra: Next week will be better, you will not end up on the Fatty Bus to Loserville, you will not actually die on the side of the Mt. Vernon Trail and end up a bloated corpse floating around in the Potomac and frightening the tourists on the water taxi…you will NOT.)
To give you some perspective, so far the longest distance I’ve run in this pathetic and surely doomed to failure endeavor of “hauling my fat ass across 26.2 miles” is just over 3 miles. That is, if you look at the map, the distance around East Potomac Park and Hain’s Point. This will be, if this map remains the general route, around miles 17-20 of my alleged marathon.
Generally speaking, when I finish that particular loop, I collapse in a gasping heap as my calf muscles and shins enter what I’ve come to affectionately know as the “53 minutes of painful spasms followed by 42 of light yet equally painful twitching” phase. After. Three. Miles.
And yet, I will persevere. Even I have to admit, as proud as I am so far for sticking to the training schedule, collapsing in that heap at only mile 3 would be truly pathetic, and unworthy of a Sugarbaker woman.
Week Three Observations:
Mmmm, cheesy poofs.
1) I am so. Freaking. Hungry!!!
Hungry. Gimme gimme gimme. I could eat my cat right now, with the right sauce. And yet my charming coachberates politely informs me repeatedly that I can’t actually eat my cat, and yours. Not only that, she’s insisting I join Weight Watchers or some other form of organized nutrition tracking group in order to make sure I eat a balanced diet in the coming weeks.
Now, dropping some weight would certainly make this process easier–but considering “hungry” is my default state even when the only exercise I’m getting is walking to the door to let in the pizza guy, I have a feeling that this is going to be…challenging. Freaking hell–why am I doing this again?
Starting weight: 100 pounds What, you thought I was going to put the real number on here? Nope, we’re starting at 100–The fact that I have not actually weighed 100 pounds since….fifth grade? Is irrelevant. Just try not to be disturbed when I give my Week 20 updates and claim to weigh only 23 pounds.
2) My Buddy and Me: FAIL
I have yet to run with a buddy until yesterday, when my friend Jen and I hit up the cross country trails at our old high school in rainy Trashua Nashua, NH. The good news is that I seem to have developed a breathing rhythm that works for me (gasp gasp puff, gasp gasp puff….sounding something like a hog in labor, I’m sure). The bad news is that I’m pretty sure Jen was wondering what I’ve been talking about with all this “running” business for the past few weeks. She kept insisting that we were running at same pace she might do herself if she were alone…and yet I couldn’t help noticing that our conversations went something like this:
Jen: Wow, check out that creepy guy with the homemade fishing pole, omg, he has a porn stache! Do you think he’s going to murder us? Do you think it’s even safe for us to run here?
Me: (gasp gasp puff) yeah (gasp gasp puff) he (gasp gasp puff) is pretty (cough gasp cough) creepy.
Jen: Are you okay? Hey look, those guys have a paddle boat! Do you think they’re actually catching fish? I don’t think I could actually eat fish from this river, it looks pretty nastifying, hmm, maybe I want to eat some potato salad after this, and what time do you think we should go out tonight?
Me: Um…. (gasp choke cough wheeze) I….can’t…(wheeze) talk (gasp gasp puff).
3) Drinking is bad, m’kay?
Friday night my dear friend Jenny was getting married in Maine. I will not disclose fully all I had to drink that night, but will admit that the night ended at around 230 in the morning with two White Russians. Yeah milk and vodka (and various other adult beverages) mixing around in mah belleh! We’re going to shake shake shake you up tomorrow! Get some rest! This is probably why Jen also might have wondered what I’ve been talking about with all this “running” business when I made her stop to walk with me every quarter mile or so. If by “walk” you mean “dry heave”.
All in all, a great week! Here’s the official update, with all times are estimates becuase I left my spreadsheet at the office.
Week Three Training Update, the Dry Heave Edition
Sunday: Rest, aaah. Monday: 2 miles, 28 min (I think? I remember being happy I finished before my laundry was done, and the washing machine cycle is 28 min! I’m sticking to it!) Tuesday: 2 miles, 31 minutes (this was the night I went in Old Town, and was harrassed by a gaggle of street youths who seemed impressed at just how hard boobs can bounce when a woman is barely even running) Wednesday: 2 miles, 32 minutes (this was my morning run, which turned into a walk because I honestly thought I might barf) Thursday: Blessedly, a rest day Friday: Cross training, I was forced to count the 30 min or so of booty shaking I did at the wedding as such. I did get out of breath. Whatever, I’m counting it. I also did a few dozen “arm lifts” to my pie hole as I shoved it full of cake and beer and White Russians. Saturday: 3 to 3.5 or so miles (not actually sure, because apparently the mile markers at Mines Falls Park in Nashua…don’t exist. What’s that all about??) 50 min. 55 if you count dry heave breaks.
Weight: 100 pounds
Weight loss/gain: I’ll let you know at the next update. I’m thinking after the weekend, it’s +28 or so–there was a fried pickles incident.
