Pleasegetbetter.

WEATHER: Over 50!

MILES: HOW MANY?  11 on the elliptical.  Which I equate to…oh, 8 miles running, as calculated by the “because-I-flippin’-say-so” calculator.

MILES THIS WEEK: 74.5

MILES THIS MONTH: 132

WHERE TO: The gym at work.  A little 2-foot by 3-foot space therein.

MOOD: Hopeful

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

I’ve been icing the knee so much that I have a couple spots of mild frostbite popping up.  I know, I know, the ice pack says “do not apply directly to skin,” but it just won’t WORK AS WELL, DAMMIT, if I do it the WUSSY way.  Plus, this gives me an added feel-all-better benefit…you know that old joke where the guy goes to the doctor…

GUY: Doctor, my finger is broken.

DOCTOR: <stomps on Guy’s foot, shattering several bones>

GUY: <through tears of anguish> Why did you do that?

DOCTOR: Your finger doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?

Well, I am both the psychopathic doctor and hapless patient in this scenario, in the sense that the frostbite rubbing against my pants all day makes me wonder if it’s actually the joint that hurts or if it’s just the skin.  Which is strangely comforting, because if I can’t tell, the injury couldn’t be that bad.

Anyway, the knee feels strangely not-that-bad right now and didn’t even twinge on the walk home from work, even when I jogged across a couple of streets to avoid homicidal DC drivers.  Hoowah!  Hope!

Oh, and UPDATE!: The Bear ran her half-marathon on Sunday in 3:12, after which, I understand, she ate many bagels and then screamed, crumbs of bread spewing from her mouth, “RAAAWWWWR!  I AM A GOLDEN GOD!  I AM A BEAUTIFUL ANIMAL!”

Good job, The Bear.

Hooray for The Bear!

Look! There she goes!

WEATHER: Warming up — 32ish!

MILES: 10.5

MILES THIS WEEK: 42.5

MILES THIS MONTH: 100

WHERE TO: Georgetown, Glover Park, blah, blah…

MOOD: Chipper but feeling a cold coming on.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

My run this morning was wonderful.  Yay!  But today we have more important matters to tend to.

Because today, dear readers, we celebrate new runners everywhere by wishing good luck to a lovely woman (and this blog’s top commenter) who I will simply call The Bear (which has much more to do with her little commenter icon than her looks) (which are SMOKIN’ and not at all bear-like).

You see, The Bear is running her first race this weekend — P.F. Chang’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Half-Marathon in Phoenix, Arizona. And as she is a dear friend and a truly wonderful person, I have composed a poem for The Bear…13 lines in length, even, to propel her though 13 miles of sheer Arizonan sunny BLISS!

TO THE BEAR ON YOUR FIRST HALF-MARATHON:

Roses are red,

Your toenails are black.

Your sports bra is kickin’;

Your skivvies are wack.

*

Your nipples won’t chafe

Because you’re not a guy.

If you crap yourself,

Try not to cry.

*

I hope you kick ass

When you run P.F. Chang’s.

Did you know that “chang’s”

Also rhymes with “wangs”?

*

(…because it does.)

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New runners!  Unite!  Run a race!  And someday you, too, can be the recipient of a lovely rhyming poem that inspires and motivates you and also includes the word “wang.”