23 weeks and a day to race day. My Hal Higdon training schedule (1st week, 10K Novice) tells me to run 3 miles today. Can do. Not very quickly, but can do.
Unfortunately, the current bug situation (big, persistent, biting, black flies) prevents outdoor running. I have tried. You have to live it to understand it. Bug spray matters not. The locals say they're only around for a month. I've got a few weeks to go.
I'm relegated to the treadmill, which I didn't realize exactly how much I despised until I compared my motivation to run today (pretty low) to where it was 2 weeks ago (pretty high). Oh, well. At least I don't spend the entire run waving my arms around my body fending off insects.
My chest hurts from the other day's "strength" training: pushups, situps and squats. My hopes are high that Bill will put the weight bench together soon. Then I can have other sore muscles! Spread the wealth.
I am still 7 pounds heavier than I was when Bill came home. Drat that I equate "celebrate" with "eat". I like to celebrate. I like to eat. To punish myself, I've been drinking my coffee black, except on Sundays. I can't wait for tomorrow; I don't enjoy black coffee. But I really don't enjoy being 15 pounds heavier than I was when I got married. My mom is visiting, and I think she has resigned herself to carrying about 40 extra pounds. I refuse.
So now that my shot of coffee is done, I shall get dressed and run. On the boring treadmill.
