Miles: 12
Pace: 8:48
Friends saved from heart attack: 1 (you’re welcome, Thompson; I accept
gratitude payments in wine)
Today is Thursday, which I have long-since declared to be my
running day, yet have failed to actually make it so since Napa. I forced myself to skip the boxing gym this
morning and make good on my plan to cycle through 8, 10, and 12 mile runs. I chose 12 miles today because I ordered a
bunch of smaller sized clothing online this week for a conference I have next
month. I would like them to fit when
they arrive tomorrow. It was somewhat
easier to skip boxing this week due to the maiming of my hands that occurred
almost two weeks ago during approximately 45 minutes of throwing power right
crosses at the mitts. They are nearly
healed, but still scabbed over and it still hurts to punch with my right
hand. (A time lapse progression of my gross hands follows.)
(This is what my hand looked like when I took my wraps on Friday the 13th. Fitting, no?)
(A couple days later. Still waiting for real scabs to form.)
(One week out. Scabs are there, which is nice for protecting the knuckles, but they have a nasty habit of getting caught on things)
(10 days out. I finally realized I had no choice but to wrap my knuckles in gauze very dramatically to keep my scabs from ripping off every time I reached into my purse. Sadly, there is no other way to bandage a knuckle.)
It was hard to push myself to go fast when I’m not actively training
for a marathon. Yes, I am training for a
triathlon, but the running part is only 10K.
It is not stressing me out. The
swim stressed me out a little bit, but I got myself a day pass to 24 Hour
Fitness last Sunday and swam 1600 meters to prove to myself I could. It took me just under 50 minutes (alternating
freestyle and breast stroke with each lap).
It was monotonous, but not hard.
My shoulders screamed at me the next day, but I am now confident I can
swim 1600 meters. This weekend I’ll hop
on a bike to prove to myself I can still ride one. But back to today’s run. I decided I’d like to do sub-9:00 miles,
thinking that would be easy. It was
harder than I expected. Lack of
motivation may have factored in. My run
was uneventful, but since I need to develop some content for this blog, I’ve
come up with the following three events.
- I had to stop and wait to cross a major street. While I was waiting, a less-fit appearing man chugged up to the same stoplight, but across the street from me (running parallel). When the light changed, I jogged across the intersection and saw that he took off faster than me. The HELL? Running has taught me you cannot judge a runner by his or her body type – a lesson I routinely ignore when people run faster than I do. I also have a running mantra that I use when people pass me early in a race and I am tempted to speed up: “Run your race, TST [of course, I use my real last name because I do not call myself TST in my head]. Run your race, TST. Run your race, TST . . . ” Since I was less than 3 miles into my run, I decided I was not going to race this man. He was probably running a much shorter distance, or alternating walk breaks, or . . . “Run your race, TST. Run your race, TST. Run your – oh, eff it! He is NOT GOING TO BEAT ME!” I totally smoked him.
- At about 6:15 am, I ran past Thompson’s house. I considered banging on her door and saying hi. Then I realized she probably sleeps normal human sleeping hours and banging on her door this early might give her a heart attack. I kept running because I like her and do not want her to have a heart attack.
- I stopped at my boxing gym 6.65 miles into the run (dangerously close to 6.66, I know). I said hi to a couple friends, took a salt pill, and refilled my water. Then I saw that a new guy TOOK MY BAG. Let me back up. I have boxed on the same heavy bag for the last 3-4 years. It is my bag. It is marked with my blood, sweat, and tears (okay . . . sweat). I let it slide when New Guy used my shower room a few weeks ago (not bothering to remove the clothes I had in there, which prevented me from using the other shower room). But this is beyond the pale. When my hand heals, I will request a sparring session. No, I was not boxing today. But that doesn’t matter. It’s like he peed on my fire hydrant!
I finished my uneventful run with no further concerning events. I did forget that the sun comes up much earlier these days and spent the last 3ish
miles running directly into the bright sun because I forgot sunglasses. I miss winter already. Husband #1 drove by with Daughters #1 and 2 at 11.5 miles. He honked and waved. He later told me I looked "strong." I did not feel strong at that point, but looks are what matter, amiright?
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