Will post the deets soon. It was totally flippin’ awesome and I’m SO glad I did it. Incidentally, the time I got on this half-marathon is about exactly what Dave got in the full marathon two years ago…so…well, yeah.
Oh, you know, just another day of being completely and totally awesome
Okay. I’ll tell you my secret. I signed up for (another) half marathon. This time I wanted to keep it on the D.L. because (a) I’ve been sucky about training for it and (b) my track record with actually RUNNING the half marathons I sign up for is pretty dismal…we’re talking 1 for 4 at this point. So I didn’t want to over-promise. I’ve had this happen to me WAY too many times, and I’ve learned my lesson about committing to something before I’m sure I’ll actually end up doing it.
But!! The half is in exactly five days (this Sunday), and I think I’ll actually do it! Can you believe it? I can’t. I seriously, really, for reals, have NOT been training. I’m not saying that in a “I’ve ONLY been running 15 miles a WEEK!” way; I mean that I have done exactly 4 training runs since, oh, last March or so. Then about four weeks ago, I looked at the calendar and was like, “CRAP, I haven’t been working out and I’m supposed to run a half marathon in a month. I suck.”
Als0, it’s annoying when a blogger promises to do/write/update/deliver something and then fails. And I know I’ve been an offender from time to time. Okay, a lot of the time. Okay, I’m like the worst offender on the Internet. Which is why I love you people for continuing to read and comment.
The good news is, I think I’m going to be able to finish the race. At this point that’s all I can hope for, since I’m definitely not going to beat my PR-slash-only time of 2:15 – sad, but true.
With careful advice from my brother-in-law’s new girlfriend-slash-former-Canadian-Olympic-team-triathlete (BOOYA), I’ve been managing to pull off some decent runs. Last week, I did a full 10-miler with minimal pain or mental infirmity at the end. I accomplished this by going early in the morning, before it got too hot, and doing 5-and-1’s the whole time (run five minutes, walk one).
All of this is boring to most of you, but here’s what might not be: in the past couple of weeks, I’ve discovered a teensy bud of love for running. It’s nothing to write home about at this point, but it’s something. It’s this little voice in the back of my head, when I’m running and rocking out to good music, that says, “I like this.”
I can’t really say what has changed – but part of it is that I’ve started going by myself a lot more. I love Dave to death (obviously) but I think running together all the time was starting to get rough on both of us. I would feel bad for holding him back, and he would feel bad for getting frustrated with me when I whined, or fake-fell, or yelled at him for looking at my jiggly cheeks, or whatever. It’s still nice to start and finish runs together, but I’ve been doing the bulk of my long distances alone – just me, my iPod, and the goose shit.
Seriously, geese make human-sized turds. It’s frightening.
This is a good thing, because last night I baked a cake and ate the whole thing in one sitting. I told myself it was my dinner, but the three extra pounds the scale had for me this morning said otherwise.
Yesterday I got a new comment on my Ab-solutely post that said “Sali a correr gordita,” which, according to Dictionary.com’s translator means “Sali ran plump.” So I sent the comment to my Spanish-speaking friends and they told me the real meaning: Go out and run little fatty.
I have some thoughts on this. First, GRAMMAR?! Seriously, if you’re going to try to be mean to someone, at least use punctuation. It adds a little extra oomph to the message. Like this: Sali a correr, gordita. See? The Italics and comma give it that je-ne-sais-quoi that would really have gotten under my skin.
Second, the dude who left the comment is named Ramiro who (according to his IP address) lives in Montevideo. Calling me a “gordita” implies a grade-school level of maturity. Because, seriously, grownups could come up with WAY meaner stuff to say – “Your gut looks like a package of hamburger buns,” or “Do you put Bag Balm udder cream on your neck to keep your multiple chins from chafing?” or “You look like Geoffrey Rush,” or even something simple like, “You’re going to die unloved and alone.” So, given Ramiro’s childish mentality, I can only assume that this insult is actually a declaration of his love for me. The last time a boy said something like that to me (I believe it was Kevin White, who called me “Pizza Face” in middle school and then threw a corn dog at me), it turned out that he wanted to take me to the Valentine’s Day dance. So, Ramiro, I’m sorry to tell you that I am unavailable to come to your Valentine’s Day dance in Montevideo – but I’ll bet you can find companionship with a tub of Vaseline and an episode of the Maury Povich Show. Or maybe with this woman.
Third, okay, Ramiro has a point. I haven’t been running. I really haven’t been working out at all. I had to cancel the half marathon I was going to run with a lovely friend next weekend. I’ve been stressed out like WOAH recently and the resulting anxiety has me feeling like I’m pinned to the couch. I’m working on getting out in the beautiful sunshine to go running – the photos on this post show you some of the blooming that’s been happening here in Chicago. But it’s hard. It’s hard to make time to work out. It’s hard to avoid being paralyzed by stress. It’s hard to feel good about myself when I’m not treating my body with love. And it’s hard to keep from flying down to Mondevideo, eating a bucket of beans and corn, pooping in a paper bag, lighting the bag on fire, and leaving it on Ramiro’s doorstep with a Post-It that says “Gordita THIS, mofo!”
I can’t think of a proper metaphor to use as my way to say that I signed up for yet another half-marathon. I say “yet another” because in the past two years, I’ve signed up for three halfs and have only run one of them. So…I’d say chances are 50-50 that I’ll actually run it. Luckily, I have some amazing support, and I’ll be joined by a lovely friend-slash-bloggista. Oh, and did I mention the course? Gorge. I’d be crazy to chicken out of this one.
In other sad news, I was rejected from my dream-job…so if there’s anyone out there looking for a brand manager/marketing MBA intern this summer, hit me up. Seriously. I’m free.
…go here right now. Then come back here and paste your favorite one into the comments, since I don’t have enough time to read all of them. Dave and I are having a rousing game of Wikipedia Challenge:
That there’s a picture of me dressed up as a Coors Light can for the first annual Chicago Beachathlon a couple of weeks ago, where Whitney in Chicago, now an OFFICIAL LAWYER, was volunteering. Annnd…I’m not bragging or anything, but I’m married to the guy who finished second overall. He won a life-sized plywood surfboard that will be hung in our home when monkeys fly out of my ass.
Also, I made that Coors Light costume from scratch, by hand. I even painted the logo on felt, thus securing my spot in the Awesome People Hall of Fame.
Happy weekend, friends!
***Update: You like how my ponytail looks like a mullet (pronounced “moo-lay”) in the photo of me? It makes the photo even better.***
People, September 13 is going to be my day of reckoning. I mean, how the crap am I supposed to run a half marathon when I look like this after 3 miles?
But, okay, we’re trying to be positive here so I’ll enumerate exactly why I think this run sucked it up and how I plan on changing that. In less than a month. Gulp.
Here was the plan for this run: Dave and I were going to practice my 11-mile commute to business school, then run 8 miles back and walk the last 3 for a cool-down. Chicago’s Air and Water Show was going on, so I figured there’d be enough sights like this to distract me from the pain of the run:
Unfortch, despite the awesome aerial demonstrations filling the sky above me, I could not be deterred from my despair.
People, that was a grrrrreat weekend. What did you get up to? We spent a goodly portion of the holiday at my parents’ house, enjoying the water and sunshine. Dave’s younger bro was here for his very first American Fourth of July celebration, so obviously we had to make sure the weekend was epic. I also got about two workouts in (more on that after I show you a butt-ton of photos).
Here are Dave and his bro-ski getting ready for Airheading. You’ll see what I mean in a second.
Gotta put wet suits on to go in the Puget Sound, otherwise you’ll get hypothermia in 20 minutes. True story.
I’ve been training for this half-marathon shizz for so long that I was sick of being worried over the distance…so I went ahead and ran a full half-marathon today. Crazy? Maybe. But now at least I know I can do it. I did the first six miles on my own, then my Canadian joined me.
…and then my dad rolled up in his BMW sports car and started taking cell phone pictures of us:
Lemme tell you: it’s easy to get off-track with working out, especially when I’m supposed to be writing about it. But then I stumbled upon a photo I didn’t know Dave took of me last Wednesday as I desperately dug into my nostril to retrieve the carcass of the fly that had lodged itself in there seconds before.
And then I realized that, like an insect in a nasal canal, I’ve been hiding from updating you on my workout progress. Not that I haven’t been training, per se, but the past week has marked the complete collapse of any sort of pattern to my training. With t-minus 22 days till my half-marathon, I figure today’s as good a day as any to get back on track and finish strong.
Sadly, since I’m in San Diego AT MY BACHELORETTE PARTY right now, I don’t have photos for you from my workout. Soooo…I’m just going to list what I did each day for the two of you who are following my training progress slowly.
Day 84: 3-mile run
Day 85: Lots of walking? That’s lame to count as a workout, but that’s what I did. A set of abs, too.
Day 86: 3-mile run, during which time we stopped by the home of one of Dave’s coworkers and saw his newwww babyyyy!!! SQUEEEEEEEAL!!! I think Dave had a mini-heart attack when he saw my reaction to the teeny weeny little cherub.
Day 87: A hardcore glute exercise on the airplane (I’m talking about panicked clenching here, people), followed bya 5-mile run along Mission Beach here in San Diego
Day 88: 6-mile run along the beach with my little Kirsten, aka the best senior-year college roommate of all time.
Can I talk about how amazing it is to have a bachelorette party? I feel like I’m in heaven with all of these incredible women around me. Get ready for some hilarious recaps.