|"Oh, my fuckin' God. Girl, this about to get ugly." |
Now, over the course of the last few months, I have come to consider myself a serious runner. Note, I did not say fast runner. I am fat not fast, but I am serious! I think about running all the time. I train for running. I read about running. Given half the chance, I'll talk your ear off about my latest run. And when I do get to race, I DO NOT dress up in costume, I do not take pictures with my cell phone (OK, I did take pictures with my camera in Hawaii but that was because I was a tourist and allowed to make a jackass of myself), I do not chat/wave to the crowd as I trot by, what I do is try to run myself into the ground. And, I LOOOOOVE IT! In fact, you know what I hate most about a race? Waiting for the volunteer to pull my timing chip off at the end of the race because usually by then I am close the point of either blacking out, vomiting, or wetting myself -- note to insert your own Charlie Sheen Reference at your leisure.
So what am I getting at? Just this . . . I need a race! I am signed up for and 8k on March 5th, but my demon is impatient, and 9 days is like nearly as long as Charlie Sheen can take rehab
side shuffles with weights
Mt. Climbers on a basketball
Toe tap quad exercise
I was beat by the end of the second class, but you know what . . . this morning, I was still looking to see if I could find a race on Saturday in which to late register. Haven't done it yet, but really . . . really want to do it! The demon says that I can Make some Hoecakes if I register!