The dreaded 12.

Yesterday morning was my long run with the CARA group, and i was dreading it.  We had the option to do 10 or 14 miles, and i was totally down for the 14 (in a terrified way)  I've found that in the past, 10 miles is the farthest i can run and still consider it "easy".  The 11th and or 12th miles (especialy during a race) is when i start to mentally freak out and think "shit just got real."  So obviously, any distance over 13.1 miles means i will instantly drop dead.


Adding to my concern is the fact that i just don't feel good.  With the puppy and life in general, i am getting just enough sleep for "sit on her ass" me to get by.  But "stupidly training for a marathon me" is just not having this.  I'm trying to keep myself alive by pounding emergen-C the way the jershey shore crew pounds protein powder...

g.t.r.a.f.m.

I also pleaded with Matt to be on puppy duty so i could catch up on some zzzz's.  She has been wild and wanting to play at night and keeping us up.  When i woke after a solid seven hours of sleep, i found it strangely quiet.  I went into the living room, and what to i find:

Those assholes were taking up the entire couch!  I might as well run because there is nowhere to sit.  Because this was a longer run, i was going to need to bring a little extra something to keep me going.  Sadly, the absolutely useless pocket on my sweater only holds a single energy chew...

seriously, that is a single chew.  Also, i have really small hands.

Talk about the most useless pocket in the world....


The run was actually really awesome.  The weather was perfect.  It wasn't too cold, and it was overcast.  I know most people like a nice sunny day, but when you're a ginger, a little cloud cover is a gift.  I ran 10 miles, which blew by, and then did two more.  I felt great, and was totally ready to keep going, but my group leader advised that taking it slow is the best thing i can do, and you should feel great, and not tired after a run.

If you don't feel like taking 10 million photos of yourself, you've run too hard.

That really made me think of all the training runs where i felt like i would die after.  Maybe i was doing something wrong there... 

I got home and foam-rolled, because i have been really slacking at stretching...

While i was down there, i realized waffles is hoarding her toys.  And that i am terrible at cleaning.

Just to prove that i was still feeling good, i agreed to go to Costco with Matt.  I hate Costco.  With a passion.  I love the deals, but i can't step inside that place without wanting to murder everyone around me.  We had to park at another store and walk there, because there were no parking spaces, and then when we got in, there were NO CARTS.  I just started laughing.  Like, that scary laugh, where you have obviously given up on the situation, and are sorta half laughing, half crying, and appear drunk to the world.  Yeah, that was me.  

I was so annoyed that i just grabbed a cardboard box and dragged it around the store as a ghetto cart.  When a girl needs bulk waffle fries, a girl needs bulk waffle fries.....  I got a lot of judgmental looks as i scooted my box of groceries all over the store (Matt said it looked like i was scooting and looting), but i like to think that a few people were like, "yeah, you don't need a cart!  you scoot that box!"

In case you were doubting any of this.

Thats all i have for now!