I have a secret.
Shocking, I know, coming from Her Highness of Over-Sharerdom.
(I really want to put a picture of myself with a crown on here, but I’ve currently reached a new high level of lazy and I don’t want to ruin what I worked so hard for.)
Okay, so back to the secret. I secretly (well, not anymore) wish that I could squeeze three runs into my week and build my base so I can run the marathon on Dec. 1 that I said I was not going to run because marathon training is not a priority right now.
I just checked and it’s still not a priority. But I want to run the race.
I don’t want to train for the race, though, so that’s sort of a problem.
On Saturday, I felt something familiar. I got dressed as fast as I could, but I must’ve mistook the desire to go run for something else because as soon as I stepped out the door, I was all: This is dumb; I’d rather be napping.
Maybe I just misunderstood myself about the running. Maybe I just wanted to put on a pair of socks.
I ran anyway. First mile, a warm up, was about as exciting as that Eustace guy on Mountain Men. Miles 2-3, I did sprints of 20, 30, 40 and 40 seconds over and over resting as needed in between. Mile 4 was a cool down and it couldn’t have gone slower or been more dull (but not more dull than Eustace, just to be clear).
Why can’t I get excited to run? I don’t know what happened, but just like every celebrity couple ever…there’s no love.
I don’t know. Maybe I need to change things up a bit.
Maybe next time I’ll bring the dog. Sure, he’s like holding the string of a 75-pound kite in a Category 5 hurricane and, yeah, I’ll need to bring six crap bags with me…
But at least it’ll be more interesting than Mountain Men. Jesus, History Channel. And WHAT is UP with that guy who all he does is look for his Beagles the entire time?!