1. Holiday-Themed Foods Taste Better
This is a fact. Friday afternoon, my mom and I wandered around World Market for an hour or so, finding things we really didn’t need, but that were so cute/fun, we had to have them.
My mom loves a good tortilla chip, so she couldn’t pass up these red and green chips. And let me tell you, they were fantastic. Not sure exactly what makes them so special, other than their Christmasy colors, so I’m going with the obvious: holiday-themed foods just taste better. The fact that 3 of us cleaned that plate in about 8 minutes is direct evidence.
2. My Little Sister is as Inappropriate as I Am
I blame her:
We also made “the face.” Or, my sister and I did.
3. When Your Knee Hurts Running on Saturday, Trying to Run 12 Miles on Sunday is a Horrible Idea
Saturday morning, I was supposed to run with my running group, but due to some kind of malfunction in my flux-capacitor, I somehow slept until 8:12AM. I couldn’t tell you the last time I slept past 7:30, let alone 8, but I guess I must’ve needed the rest or something. I was feeling pretty wimpy, so rather than brave the cold, I zipped over to the gym to do my long run on the treadmill.
For the first 4 miles, I felt great, cruising along at a nice comfortable pace. Then, around mile 4.25, my left knee started bugging me. OK, not just bugging me, killing me. My knees are funny with their pain. Sometimes, I can talk myself out of it. It feels a certain way and I know that if I just ignore it or think about something else, it will go away. And then there’s the other kind of “oh HELL no!” pain that just means I’m done. Bet you can guess which kind I had on Saturday. I eeked out another quarter mile before calling it quits to walk the rest of the way. Blargh.
My circadian rhythms were completely out of whack, so I woke up at 5:30 Sunday morning feeling like I HAD to go run. I tried to go back to sleep given that it was still pitch black outside, but no dice. An hour later, I hopped out of bed determined to get that long run in.
Because I’m a super genius, I reasoned that since I didn’t run very far the day before, my knee would probably feel fine that morning, and I could do 10-12 miles without a problem. I grabbed my Gu, suited up, and set out for a long quiet run.
Lo and behold, 4.25 miles in, there was the knee pain. This is where the swearing in my head begins. Mother f—er. F. F. What the F?!? (I know you’ll all be shocked to hear that I accidentally used the F word in church this weekend, too. Oops.)
I was upset for several reasons:
- Planning a 10-12 mile run meant I was 4.25 miles from home with no way back but to run (or walk).
- I am an asshole. No, really. Why did I think this was a good idea given how quickly and intensely I felt the exact same pain the day before?
- This is my own damn fault. I quit strength training with any devotion or regularity shortly after my half in November, so I’m definitely not as strong. The correlation between weights and my running is unmistakeable, so why must I be so arrogant and think I can still run all over town when I’ve been neglecting my poor muscles? Again–asshole.
So I miraculously slogged through another 2 miles before walking a bit. Then I slowed my pace considerably and was able to run the last 2 miles and make it home.
This morning I got up and had a date with Jackie, who unapologetically kicked my butt for being a delinquent. It’s ok; I deserved it.