Two weeks ago I ran 10 miles. By ran I mean that I ran about 8.5 miles, stopped and almost puked, walked, tried to run, walked again, stuck my head under somebody's sprinklers, and then ran home (because my neighbor was out in her front yard and I couldn't be seen walking by people I know!) As was to be expected, I was pretty much useless for the rest of the day.
The next week I got back into my schedule of running every other day, so the 11-mile run last Friday wasn't too bad. Tomorrow I have a 12-mile run and I am admittedly a little nervous. I generally eat pretty well, but I'm thinking Chewy Sprees, Flamin' Hot Cheetos, and homemade chocolate ice cream aren't exactly the best fuel for keeping me going on a long run. Weird monthy cravings...
So why am I running so much? My awesome amazing friend and neighbor Crystal is running the St. George Marathon in October and I told her I'd train with her for it, even though I'm not doing it. What was I thinking?!?! I must be crazy, but I feel sane because the jarring of running is killing my brain cells. That must be it.
Actually, I am finally starting to have more energy. I like the way my body looks and the way J looks at my body. Besides the hours of time running still seems to take, the perks are pretty good.
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