Day 12 of 23: I Hate Running and Other Stories

Ok, so I don't hate running. Well, maybe I do a little bit. It's just that running has become such a goddamn chore lately. It's not running's fault. It's this weather. This is the time of year when I'm not supposed to have to plan every piece of gear. I'm supposed to be able to toss on a tank top and a pair of shorts and just go, but instead I'm dealing with 3 layers to combat the cold or the wind or the rain or the snow or what-the-fuck-ever. Winter training is my jam...but not in the fucking spring. I miss wanting to run. Lately it's been just pounding out the miles because I have to. Yes, I realize no one is holding a proverbial gun to my head, but I paid for this training program and I paid for the two upcoming half marathons on my calendar. It's entirely possible that once the Cellcom is in the bag I won't run for quite some time. Or if I do, it will be a quick 6 with a friend followed by beer, the way the gods intended.

Goal this week is head down and grind.

Saturday I tried on my new small pants and went to yoga. I had a scary moment when I pulled them on as the seam around the calf creaked and stretched. I thought for sure the damn thing had split. Thankfully, it didn't and I made it through a whole class without having to hike up my pants! Hooray!

My favorite, favorite pants!

Saturday was also my first time at Bonsai for sushi. It was good. That place is weird, though. I'd been there once or twice when it was whatever it used to be, and there's something slightly disconcerting about being in a basement restaurant. 

I hitched a ride with some friends to Appleton to watch our mutual friend Scully Crossbones in a derby bout. Roller derby is an interesting sport. No one has ever explained the rules to me, so having Scully give me a short tutorial was really helpful. The home team annihilated the visitors from Chicago, which actually made following what was happening much easier. Mostly I admired some of the hits I saw go down. Hitting on roller skates? That is badass as fuck. 

Holy shit I miss hitting. There is something so deeply satisfying about tossing some bitch on her head. Derby intrigues me. I haven't done much skating in years and years, and I wasn't good at it when I did it. So while I kind of want to try it, the "on wheels" of it all is intimidating. Also I feel as though picking up another potentially damaging hobby is courting disaster. 

But...I do already have a mouthguard. 

This morning I woke up late (seriously, 8:45-WTF?) and came downstairs to an eerily quite house. I gathered by the flotsam around that fantastic husband had gone for a run and the smalls were downstairs in the basement. So I made myself some grey-day comfort food.

Oats, berries, nuts, and seeds.

I should've run 10 miles this weekend, and I didn't. I just didn't want to. The cold and shitty wintery bullshit of it all stole my desire. I've already done a 10, so I know I can. This week I'll get those runs, especially the tempo and interval runs. 

Fantastic husband decided against the Team WOD today since he'd already done 8 miles and his knee was feeling tricky. I went, and participated in a baseball themed workout that was actually a lot of fun. We did a lot of sprinting, so I guess in a way I got a run in. Before heading to the box I mashed a pepper and some hummus into my face along with some string cheese. You'll have to take my word for it.

After the WOD I chowed down a BBE (CRUTCH!) because I'd missed the window for lunch. I did have a nice bowl of berries and yogurt for a snack. Use your imagination.

Since I went to the derby bout on Saturday night, I missed the premier of Outlander. Fortunately, I DVR that shit. Not so that I can watch it over and over again. No...not at all. I mean why would a person do that? I can't think of a single reason...

OH HAI, SAM HEUGHAN! TALK SCOTTISH TO ME!

Lemme just say that it's clear Sam Heughan squats. Unnnnf. Oh yeah, and strong female lead character and shit. But mostly Sam speaking French with a Scottish accent. Drools and dies. 

Sunday night is yoga for me. My left hip was kind of cranky going in, but felt much better afterwards. Tonight's class was heavily attended. Normally there's a handful of us and it's easy to get my favorite spot (back left corner against the mirror, bitches) but tonight it was a bit of a squeeze. 

Dinner was some salmon and veg and rice I'd put aside from the other night. I was too lazy to plate it.

Still pretty tasty.

We washed the spawn tonight, and after getting into his jammies, C decided to flex for us. We complimented his gainz and I flexed my arm for him. He squeezed my bicep and pronounced "Muscles aren't supposed to be squishy, Mom." Thanks, asshole. That boy is lucky he's so cute. 

I tried to talk P into cutting his mullet. Fantastic husband swooped in to tell the boy that he didn't have to listen to me, that his hair was his decision. I had him considering cutting it, too. Thanks, asshole. That guy is lucky he's so cute.

Tomorrow it's back to the box for 915, then some extra work at open gym. I made some time for a little self-maintenance mid-day, then back across town with the kids for CF kids in the afternoon. Not sure what I'll work on tomorrow afternoon. Maybe I'll try to 1 rep a deadlift. Maybe I'll work on snatching. It's a smorgasbord of possibility in that place. 

I'm over the midpoint of my 8 day off stretch, which is sad, but still lots of time left. 11 days until my final visit with Kirk the Nutrition Guy. My initial goals are so close. I want to crush them, and then move on to new goals. 

Relentless. Forward. Progress.