Posts Tagged ‘Pretty weather’

Flying Solo


WEATHER: 40!  Beautiful!  I wore shorts!

MILES: 19

MILES THIS WEEK: 66.5

MILES THIS MONTH: 124

WHERE TO: Allllll over the place…Georgetown, Glover Park, some neighborhood apparently called “Palisades,” lost in Maryland for a while…and then back.

MOOD: Beautiful!  I wore shorts!

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Today’s long run was done without the accompaniment of S.  Sometimes you just gotta fly solo.

And though it went fantastically, we have a definite injury situation on our hands here.  The left knee — which flares up about once a year with some sort of tendinitis — is definitely in a bit of pain.

No runner likes injuries, of course, and I have always had a particular way of dealing with mine — doing every possible thing to fix them except for stopping running.  I will sleep with the afflicted limb elevated on a stack of pillows, wearing special fix-it socks and several ice packs (thus waking up the next morning with a clammy lukewarm icepack and a toppled tower of pillows between me and <whichever sleeping companion>).  It used to be that if I just came home and iced the shit out of any given injury every waking moment for a few days, plus maybe held it up as high as I could at all times, it got better in a jiffy.  Meanwhile, I’d still be logging my usual weekly mileage.

Somehow I just don’t think that’s going to cut it this time, judging by the pain.  Ergh.

I fear that this is one of those “you’re getting old” signs.  There are other signs — touching my toes?  DIFFICULT.  And I used to be like freakish-bendy, sliding my hands beneath my feet as I stretched down and like bending my knees backwards and then doing the splits in midair and all other manner of contortionist shit.  And then there are the gout and the liver spots and the incessant urge to loudly maneuver my throat phlegm.

I actually read (somewhere…) that female distance runners peak at 27.  Well, I am 27 and one-and-a-half months.  THE DECLINE BEGINS!  <sob>  <fashions noose from shoelaces>

Wow.  The mood from beginning to end of this post went from like 50 bazillion to -9.  Time to go bake something.

Hooray for The Bear!


The Bear is running THIS!

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.)

————————–

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.”

Gimme a Head with Hair…


WEATHER: 35 and beautiful.

MILES: 7.5

MILES THIS WEEK: 42.5

MILES THIS MONTH: 57.5

MOOD: In the mood to detoxify.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Having to push back this week’s long run until tomorrow, when S. is available to drag me through it, I did a happy, watch-free, 7.5 miles today.  Now I just have to shower and pretty myself up for a birthday party tonight, for my lovely lady friend, Texas…a birthday party at which I will not drink, in the hopes of not vomming on S.’s shoes tomorrow and — probably even more importantly — making it out to Rosslyn at 8:30 in order to even run w/ him in the first place.

Speaking of getting prettied up, I hereby show you the result of another New Year’s resolution (aside from training extra-awesomely for Boston and blogging daily about it): LONG HAIR!

Woooooooo!

I like this resolution — so much so, in fact, that I’ve made it two years in a row: end the year with longer hair than how I began the year.  It’s nice because it allows me to just sit there, which is a far cry from running (definitelly NOT “just sitting there”) and blogging (just sitting there, taking pictures of the insides of my nostrils/mouth with my compy’s built-in camera, tapping a word every few minutes).  See, a few years ago, in a typical post-break-up freak-out, I chopped all my hair off into a kicky little pixie cut, which became, to be honest, what I referred to as “built-in birth control.”  Cutesy and low-maintenance?  Sure.  Slow-motion unnecessarily-sensual Pantene-commercial honest-to-God attractive, or even flattering?  Aw, HELL no.

And while one should never — but NEVER — do something just to please the men-folk (or women-folk, as one’s proclivities may lean), one doesn’t want to feel like a troll.  Or for one’s hair to contribute even more to one’s androgynous look (if, that is, one does not want to look androgynous, not that there’s anything wrong with that), already firmly established by one’s A-cup-ness and lack of hips.  Which (bringing it back to running) DO make running more pleasant (or so my well-endowed peers tell me), I suppose.

Was this post only marginally about running?  Yes.  No worries — I’ll be back to talking about heavy breathing and Body Glide in due time.  Oh, and running, too.

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