September 21, 2010
I’m gearing up for the Ragnar Relay, y’all. That’s 22.5 miles, baby! Woo! Also, SCARY. With the night running and whatnot? It’s a good thing I have my brand-spankin’ new Nathan LED Safety Strobe butt bumper! Just came in the mail!
Oh. Hey. It sounds dirty, but it’s NOT. Gosh.
Anyway, I’ve got TWO headlamps. And a red strobe-y bumper light thing. And two reflective vests! Which is not overkill at ALL! Because, honestly, my night run is going to be around 1:30 or 2:00 AM and smack in the middle of nowhere, so I want to make sure I’m WAY lit up, you know?
Again, that came out wrong.
I’m ready. That’s all I’m saying. Bring on the night run, Ragnar! That’s right. BRING it.
July 6, 2010
Happiness is pulling my bikini out of storage, trying it on for the first time since last summer, holding my breath, sucking in my gut, tentatively glancing at myself in my full-length mirror in the privacy of my bedroom… and smiling.
Smiling! Not crying!
I know, right?
Deal with my shallowness.
January 6, 2010
This afternoon I got very out of control and played chicken with the Metro car’s sliding doors (which, incidentally are NOT like elevators doors, in that if you happen to get caught in them, they do NOT bounce back open, don’t ask me how I know, I just DO) because I was super tired and hungry and grumpy and a little stressed about the four mile run I still had to do– on an empty stomach, no lie! in the COLDNESS– and I totally HAD to get home, GOSH. So the warning chimes were ding-dinging and the recorded voice was all, “Doors closing,” but I was like, “Aw, hell to the no!”
Honestly. Only my mad ninja skills prevented me from a near crushing between absurdly quick-closing subway doors.
Take THAT, Metro railway car!
January 5, 2010
Ah, good day. I ran 5K with Paige and then we spent the rest of the evening knitting super cool wristers (yes, SUPER COOL), eating Hershey’s kisses, and watching old episodes of “Lie to Me.”
Oh! But… not a 5K RACE! No indeed! That would have involved registration fees and fancy new running clothes and other craziness. Just… you, know, 5 kilometers. Or translated to metric-hatin’ American distance, 3.1 miles. Of course, truth be told, I actually ran 3.75 miles, but 5K was way easier to say, albeit a bit on the braggy, pretentious, metric-lovin’ side. Just a smidge. Perhaps.
Well, it was easier to say until I felt compelled to clarify, of course, at which time I realized I should have just said 3.75 miles in the first place. Total fail.
Still… good day. Yep.
(The wrister in all its glory. Behold, the awesomeness.)