That's right, ladies (I don't think any men other than my dad read this..)! I blame You(even though she's about to have a baby), and You (especially you, darnit!), and You for the pain in my thighs this morning.
Seriously, can we all just tell them to stop being such amazing runners?? Because if it weren't for their awesomely-in-shape-ness, I would NOT have gone for a run yesterday. Running and I DO NOT have a good relationship.
Back in the day (read: Sophomore yr. of HS) I ran cross country. I did it simply to get in shape for basketball season. HA! by the way- there's a 3 week window in between in which almost none of us ran- totally defeats the purpose! Anyway, Yes I did it. Through the Northern New England woods, over streams, through mud(let's not talk about the time I slipped up hill in the mud, lost my place, and ran the rest of the race covered in mud..), etc. My body did not like it.
My legs hated it- they cramped up so bad by the end of my car ride home I could barely walk inside.
My feet hated it- they produced blisters, which then ripped open, which then blistered again, and continued this vicious cycle no matter how much tape & moleskin I used.
My bladder hated it- I may or may not have slipped into the woods a few times during practice to pee. Ew..
Therefore, I only run when I 'get in the mood'. The last time that happened.. was about 8 months ago. So you see my problem.
Then this girl comes around and has her 'miles run' counter on the side of her blog. Then I find her- & read all about how she hated running, but is kicking butt at bunches of races. And then, she comes along, and is like Ms.Fit herself! Gah! Way to make me feel like a bum! (just, kidding, I love you all)
So yesterday, I tell Z I'm going for a walk, and start out down the driveway. Of course, by the time I get to the mailbox, I feel like a major wimp for walking, so I start to run. A little while later, I'm still running, and I get back in the driveway. Of course I wanted to stop a million times, but the thought of you ladies made me so stubborn I kept going. It felt like for-ev-er.
I walk up to Z (who was outside washing HIS car -not mine) and tell him I just ran the whole time. Mr.-Burst-My-Bubble responds, "That's great honey- what was it, a mile?". DEFLATED! Hrrumph! So I run inside, grab my keys, and hop in my car(which was free to take since it wasn't being washed), and drive the route I just ran. I pull back into the driveway and tell Z to look at my trip odometer- 2.1 miles, baby! Z:0 C:+1 :)
I know I probably shouldn't be proud of 2.1 miles, but it was my first time running in 8 months, people. So let me have my 2 seconds of happiness before I remember the saddening truth:
I did not kick that 2 miles' butt, it kicked mine.
I'm sore. That's SAD. Running did not give me a nice welcome back present.
16 hours ago