D-Day: 16 Weeks and Counting

Holy macaroni, Batman...

...my body hurts.

But in a good way. I think.

Trying to train for a half-marathon 10K is either killing me or making me stronger...my body is at that confused state right now, so it hasn't really made up it's mind.

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 crawling climbing off the treadmill after I've reached my goal for the night, I do a quick inventory of the body...making sure I still have all of my parts, and then evaluating each part for pain threshold.

(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.

Ankles? Check.

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??!!

Gah.