Today: Ran a dog-darn slow 5.30 hilly miles in 43:13.
Yesterday: Double-Bob-Three-dog morning 3.5 miles in 1:01
I work part-time, which may or may not mean my brain gets used only part-time. So, after a day of surprisingly cooperative and collaborative WASC writing with minimal eye rolling, my brain was tapped out.
Naturally, I went straight for these:
The kettle corn was from the Channel Islands Harbor farmer’s market yesterday, so it’s automatically healthy, right?
Because I didn’t eat lunch, I almost immediately crashed after eating all-sugar-all-the-time. So I had to force myself out of reading the tabloids and into my running gear. My brain was so shot that I accidentally put on my painting shoes to run in. Didn’t realize it until I got home. Oh well.
This insisted on going on the run:
Talk about awkward. She also peed on the carpet because she was SO DARN EXCITED!
But The Sunshine runs super slow. Every time I take her, she starts out all pumped for the one-on-one attention, but then once she starts the uphill battle, she wants to throw in the towel. Time didn’t matter today, though, since the next run I have is on November 11, the Malibu Supathon.
Things got real for this b-a-d-d-o-g, and I was forced to take pictures of the whites of her eyes at the end:
Sometimes, a slow companion is better than no companion at all, so I’ll take what I can get.
Post-run, my awesome hubs fired up the spa, and we got in with the kids for a little pool-time.
Side note: I only found this out a couple months ago, but did you know that it’s not exactly beneficial at all to soak sore muscles in a spa? While it feels supergood, the hot water actually causes the muscles to swell, slowing the recovery process. It’s much better to ice sore muscles for 15ish minutes at a time immediately following a race.
Because of a superlame work lunch of bottled water and a Cliff bar, and a superhealthy snack of chocolate and frozen minty chocolate, I was pumped for Three Amigos.
Everybody’s happy with Three Amigos:
One black bean, rice, and cheese burrito later, I’m a happy camper.
Just like Clifford.
What are you going to be for Halloween?