Holy macaroni, Batman...
...my body hurts.
But in a good way. I think.
Trying to train for a
Last night, while watching the Super Bowl, I was at my home-away-from-home. My treadmill. The machine of torture.
Run...walk...run...walk...over and over and over again. Repeat next day.
That's been my story for the last couple of weeks...with 16 more weeks to go until D-Day - which stands for DEATH Day, if you haven't figured it out. The day of the race. The day that I will either finish the damn thing or die trying.
Last night, I pushed it a little harder...a little farther...a little faster. Because running while watching $3 million commercials makes it all better, right?
I have a little ritual now for my gym experiences...after
(I'm 48 years old...there WILL be pain, believe me.)
Hamstrings? Check. Pain-free. Woot.
Knees? Hmmm...a little twinge in the left one, but probably fine. Better watch it a little closer tomorrow.
Shins? Still there...seem to be doing fine. Move on.
Arches in the feet? Wait...was that a slight cramp in the left one? ACK! I hate cramps in my feet. They're the worst.
Then, we wash, rinse, repeat.
If there's a light at the end of the tunnel in all of this madness, it's that I stepped on the scale this morning and four pounds had disappeared. I'm hoping those pounds came from my butt and hips - but it's too soon to tell. And I hope those pounds don't come back. Ever.
In the meantime, I'll keep pounding the pavement...
...all of this to just mark #2 off of my Bucket List??!!