WEATHER: 40 degrees F.
MILES THIS WEEK: 0.
MILES THIS MONTH: 0.
MILES THIS YEAR: 0.
TYPE OF RUN: Lying supine on floor, kneading stomach to facilitate digestion of excessive cookie dough consumption.
I did not run today. I consider this a mark of pride, or at least I can rationalize as such. I mean, there are all these fools out there who made big fat new year’s’ resolutions to run more, and so they went out running today. They might go running tomorrow, depending on how much they’re doing the I-haven’t-run-since-the-Clinton-administration waddle. They will roll over in bed on Sunday morning and say something about how it’s the Sabbath and Jesus/God/Yahweh/Allah/Earth Mother/Buddha/<secular humanist deity/Christopher Hitchens> doesn’t run on Sundays, right? Right. And so it will go. But those people? They are running today.
At least, I assume these people exist. I wouldn’t know. I’m not one of them. Pshaw, suckahs. I got nothin’ to prove.
Today I vacuumed, went to the grocery store, worked on my master’s thesis (making a truly awe-inspiring spreadsheet), made cookie dough in hopes of making care packages to send to all the lovely people for whom my poor drowning-in-debt-grad-student ass did not get presents, and then proceeded to eat like a gallon of said cookie dough.
Hence the lying-on-the-floor-kneading-my-stomach. There was a time when I was hardcore enough to go running in this condition, sluggishness and explosive diarrhea be damned. Whatever. It’s not like I’ve gone from hardcore to…um…softcore. I’m just realistic. Will 5 miles of trotting while stopping to clutch my intestinal area every 2 blocks really affect my future marathon performance? No. No it will not.
So instead I’ll just write the basics.
Hi. I’m DJ. I’m a grad student studying international affairs at GWU in DC, with a part-time job on the side at a lovely think tank. I am 27, from Iowa, a former farmkid, a militant feminist, a fantastic piano player, I have fantastically attractive feet with always- (ALWAYS!) painted toenails, I like to write, I hate indoor pets (Yup. Blanket statement. All of ’em. Deal with it.), and I think those pants make your butt look amazing.
Most importantly (at least for the purposes of this blog), I am a runner. I’ve run 9 marathons, and I’m training right now for Boston, on April 19. So I figured I’d chronicle my running, because as long as it’s a (nearly) daily ritual, I might as well connect another ritual to it. Also, my current daily full-body Crisco rubdown is getting expensive and I’m starting to smell really delicious. Blogging is more productive and less slippery. Right? Right.
So please keep reading (if you’re out there) and enjoy. Or don’t. I don’t care. BOOYAH!
Anyway. Tomorrow’s run: 12-14 miles with my sometimes-training-partner, S. S. is a 30-year-old DC attorney who is wicked fast. I am prepared to once again be humbled.