is it time to get a new pair? My running sneaks may have finally given up the ghost. Or even if they haven’t, it’s probably not good to be able to see your toes poke through the top.
oh well, YAY me! Now I have an excuse to go shopping 
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by ayobami
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I never thought about this before today, but I think that there may be a point where the sports bra just can’t handle any more sweat and just says, ah f**k it and gives up…I know mine certainly did today.
God, these long runs are killing me. I don’t know what it is…I run 4 miles with my Jack Rabbit group and it’s like time flies (and so do I). I run 2 miles alone and it feels like torture + purgatory and the DMV thrown in for good measure.
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by ayobami
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Not as dismal a run as last week, but still not great. I think I have to find a running partner - I’ve gotten used to a group dynamic when running and now I’m having trouble motivating myself to keep moving. Oh well.
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by ayobami
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Lance didn’t really say that, but he might as well have. I swear, today was like the textbook definition of the universe trying to make me stay home in the bed and me refusing to listen.
First, I got up pretty early this morning (figured I’d get my run in before the sun really hit its stride), went to get dressed and realized that none of my running stuff was clean. NOTHING was clean…no socks, no sports bras, no t-shirts, no wind pants, nada! Now normally, I’m the kind of person who quite enjoys spreading my misery and pain around, so I actually contemplated wearing dirty stuff. At least that way, I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone running too close to me and invading my personal space. But I decided against that, since I didn’t really want to smell myself in this heat SO…I gather up my smelly running stuff from the various hiding places (hamper, under the bed, door handles, etc.) and head downstairs to the washing machines in my building - only to realize that I’m out of laundry detergent.
So then I ask myself, “Self, what would Mr. Booker do?” (In case you’re wondering, Mr. Booker is my dad and he’s like a cross between MacGuyver and the cheapest person you’ve ever met) I have a Mr. Booker-related brain wave and end up using a strange (but surprisingly good and wonderfully fragrant) mix of White Rain shampoo, Joy dish detergent and Dr. Bronner’s Lavender Soap. Problem solved!!
While my clothes are washing and drying, I consider what I should eat to fuel up for this run…but all thoughts come to an abrupt halt once I open the refrigerator to see what I actually have. I rapidly come up with and then promptly reject toast w/peanut butter (the bread has somehow built a mold monarchy when I wasn’t looking), cereal (no milk), eggs (forgot I used them all in a sad attempt at frittata) and fruit (hahaha, like I buy fresh anything). I end up with a frozen bagel and a strange combination of frozen strawberries and Kashi Go Lean mixed with cottage cheese. I wouldn’t recommend it.
I find a hair scrunchie and go about my normal task of getting my 2 heads full of synthetic braids into a reasonable ponytail that won’t annoy me while I run…and promptly yank out a braid by mistake, which actually makes me cry for a minute. Please keep in mind that although the hair is synthetic (meaning fake and not mine), it’s attached by interweaving it with my hair so I’ve just pulled out a tiny section of my own hair along with the braid. By now, my morning has been so unreasonably sucky that all I want to do is climb back into bed in my air-conditioned bedroom, sneakers and all. But no, I am woman, hear me roar like a baby, I’m going to get my run in dammit.
Anyway, I finally get outside with my lavender scented clothes and my brand spanking-new water bottle with a hand strap (bought yesterday and filled with Gatorade) and run a few blocks, only to discover that not only do I not like the feeling of the weight on my hand while I run, the taste and sweetness of the Gatorade is entirely too much for my overheated taste buds. But wait, it gets better. Eventually, my shoulder starts cramping up. Which shoulder? The one with the arm holding the water bottle. So I switch the stupid bottle to the other hand until THAT shoulder cramps up too, and then I just trade off hands for the rest of the run. I’m already at least 2 miles from my apartment and I’m not going back just to drop off this stupid water bottle.
I get to Prospect Park and its hot. It’s so friggin hot outside. Holy watermelon Batman, it’s hot. And then my thought processes go something like this for the rest of the run…or perhaps I should call it a jog/walk/jog/walk/jog, cause that’s what I did:
“WHY IS IT SO *&^%*@$ HOT out here??? I should have just stayed in the bed with my coffee and my book!! DAMN, look at that guy with no shirt on - hey, where you going baby? You must be tired, cause you’ve been running through my mind all day! Heehee…damn he was fine”.
“AAARGH, it’s so hot!! My knees hurt!! I hate stupid Gatorade!! Where’s the water fountain?? Stop cat-calling me you dirty old fart!!”
“Aww, look at that baby looking just like a fat little dumpling. If my mama was here, she’d tell that guy to put a hat on the baby. heheheee!! Ooh, cute rollerbladers in tight pants - nice”.
“AAAAHHHH, direct sunlight again, why is there no friggin SHADE on this path!!
“Hey, hey! You, you! I don’t like your girlfriend! No way, no way! I think you need a new one! Boo, I hate this song, what else is on here? Screw this man, I’m going home”!
So, as you can see, I have had quite the productive day. I hate terrible runs. I’m taking a nap now. Screw it all.
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by ayobami
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Run w/Jack Rabbit…had an ankle turnover, but it didn’t really hurt.
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Run w/Jack Rabbit
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I meant to get up earlier and go run, but instead I laid in the bed like a lazy lima bean and didn’t go running until almost 3:00 pm and suffered during the heat for it. I think next time, I’ll just stay inside with a cool drink and a book
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