Since my last post I have run twice. The first was indoors at the gym - 4 miles in 35 minutes flat, 6.5 starting speed, 8.1 ending - and the second was today, OUTSIDE, in the BALMY 32 degrees weather. My ears were very excited to be muff-less in the great outdoors for the first time in a month; my quads were less jazzed about the hills we encountered. It went okay, and I felt happy to be out again. I did 3.23 miles in 27:49, which is an average pace of 8:21, thus proving my theory that treadmill training will make you fast but it will also make you a big fat hill wuss. Since it's supposed to drop back into arctic temperatures next week, I am contemplating some treadmill hill workouts. I'm not sure how effective they are but it is probably better than nothing, so we'll see.
Because I don't listen to music when I run outside, I always gear up for my runs with a dance party in my bedroom. I do this with the door closed lest anyone wander past and see me, because I dance like a freak. Like this:
Except instead of joining in my cats just look at me with sadness and pity. Today's warm-up song was "Raise Your Glass" by Pink which morphed into "Teenage Dream" by Katy Perry while I was running. I then spent a good chunk of my run contemplating how pop music all sounds the same to me now, which I believe officially makes me about 86 years old.
That is my bff, who I affectionately refer to as the Baby Giraffe due to her gangly awkwardness. She is living in Little Rock for the year with her husband, Cute Comm Boy (so named because I mildly stalked him in my sophomore year communications class), and suggested that we run the race together as a bonding thing. The giraffe weighs 10 pounds and could cut you with her hipbones and as such has never run a half marathon, which frightens me a little because I fear she may break in half right in front of me en route, and I can't sew or do CPR so I will be of no use if/when this happens. She has had the flu and has spent the past week or so vomming, and before that I think was right around my awesome running benchmark of 4 miles, so it remains to be seen how this whole half-marathoning-in-the-name-of-friendship will go. Because in case you have forgotten, allow me to remind you that the race is
Obviously I do not have any grand GOALS for this race, although I would like to beat the time from my last half, which was 2:13. My training for that one was very on point until I went to the doctor for what I thought might be a stress fracture and left being told it was a "shadowy mass," most likely a tumor. My tumor sucked. I named her Phyllis, she was a wench. She looked like this:
The fugly whore is technically still in my leg, hanging out, and since it never changed shape or grew the doctors didn't see a need to biopsy it, and declared it benign ("enchondroma" is Phyllis' full name, if you are into the Google). But while they were discussing all of this I was told to stop running, so by the time the half rolled around my long run consisted of a single 4.5-miler. I was running the race with my dad, who has been a runner longer than I've been alive and has done Boston twice, and he was very kind to me when I hit the wall at mile 9. But I didn't walk once and still managed some semblance of a sprint into the chute, and of course I didn't lose my sense of humor or powers of persuasion, as some time around mile 7 I managed to talk my dad into doing this for one of the course photographers:
Edited to add: I just reopened this post to let you know that I cannot watch that video without dissolving into laughter. I have yet to make it through one time. I am a dork.