Spent Labor Day at the lake with some friends. We hiked and swam and grilled burgers (lettuce wraps for me and my favorite curly haired cyclist), all of this is after a 16 mile bike ride that morning. Soooo, I’m dehydrated and feel exhausted/worn out this morning because I didn’t drink enough water. :(
On the bright side of everything, I’m still in ketosis! :D First official weigh in tomorrow! Keep ya posted. :)
Hahahahaha oh tumble what have you done to me.
Because I actually really do like taking care of the people I love, and post-grad life is looking a little rough, and I’m stressed and tired and lonely and so completely unsure of my future right now.
I found out some really bad news about my dad Sunday and it’s really making it hard to function and focus on my own life. So I’m taking a mental day. No class. Just a nap and workout. That’s it.
I’ll work on that whole being doctor thing later this week.
Easiest way to differentiate between passionate runners and people that run for show:
Are they wearing nike frees?
Omg bless this post, for real though. The majority of people who just run on occasion (at least at my old high school. And ESPECIALLY college) wear Nike…
now let’s watch some high and mighty runner fight for the rights of their beautiful and perfect Nike Frees.
I wear them cause FUCK YOU. get off your high ass horse. for a bunch of people who want everyone to be healthy, who want people to make healthy choices, you sure are a judgmental fucking group of college “passionate” runners. CAUSE PEOPLE CAN’T BE INTERESTED IN RUNNING OR INTERESTED IN BECOMING SERIOUS RUNNERS BECAUSE THEY WEAR FREE RUNS.
kiss my tiffany blue free runs, bitch.
I usually don’t take the time to respond to crap like this, but this one really irritates me. I don’t run in Nike Frees all the time as I’ve taken to running in my Inov-8’s a lot recently, BUT I AM NOT ANY LESS PASSIONATE ABOUT RUNNING WHEN I DO WEAR THEM. I wear frees because almost every other type of shoe I’ve tried has given me medial ankle pain. New balance, Brooks, Asics, even other Nike shoes. Basically all the ones I’ve tried except the frees. Being a poor college student, living on her own, who is unfunded by her parents, I’m not in the position to go buy a speciality pair of shoes (though it is on the list). For me the frees work just fine!! Maybe it’s like that for others too? Even if it’s not it doesn’t matter! Just because someone wears a certain type of shoe gives you no right whatsoever to make assumptions about them because of that. Maybe they could run miles around you! Maybe their history with running trumps yours! You don’t know them, and you don’t know how they feel about running.
FUCK, I HAVE ULTRARUNNER FRIENDS WHO RUN IN NIKE FREE’S OCCASIONALLY (though she prefers her Mizuno, and he prefers his Inov-8’s).
Don’t think you’re elite just because you wear any other brand, because maybe you’re not.
That is all.
My feet are pounding the ground, my quads biting and my hamstrings screaming because—as always, they’re the tightest thing on my body. My lungs effortlessly carry me mile after mile. As my body does what it’s become so accustom to, my thoughts race. When did I get like this? When did running come so naturally? Three years ago had I ever imagined myself running the same plot of land as I did today, I’d have laughed. Running a mile in gym class against my will was one thing, but running six miles for fun, simply because I could? That was unfathomable. Yet that’s exactly what I do. Today the trail I chose to take was a five-mile out and back running along a lake. It’s a beautiful trail, lined with trees and flowers. A quarter of the way in the main path comes to a fork with a gravel path. On the way out I ignored that fork, but on the way back, with four miles under my feet, my legs cramping, and sweat beading on my forehead, my mind calculated the difference between finishing my out and back or diverting down this second path. If I kept to my plan I would log five miles, if I diverted I would log six. Six was new, and that sounded wonderful. Immediately my mind protested. Your legs are tired, you already have way too many calories to eat back, you have to be at a meeting at seven. Excuse after excuse bubbled up, but when that gravel path came into sight I shrugged and turned. Six miles. Not my furthest, but my furthest in half a year. Did I think I could finish it? I had my doubts, but I knew there was no turning back. I would have six miles under my belt at the end of this path no matter what. That last mile was painful. I failed to account for the gravel making my footsteps unstable, but I finished it. And that’s what astounds me. I can do things like that now, push my limits on a whim, and watch my body react and grow and change. If I can do that, I can do anything, which almost leaves me speechless, because in complete honesty all of this is simply amazing.
Do you guys remember him? The guy who got me into running and Crossfit? The one who changed my life. Do you remember the long and elusive past we share? Remember how things left off a little poorly?
Well, it’s gotten a lot better since then, and he’s coming to see me tomorrow. Happier than I can express. :)
2 days and 22 hours until I get to leave for London. 20 hours of work. 2-3 hours of Crossfit. 18ish hours of sleep.
It can’t get here soon enough, but at the same time I want the next 2 days and 22 hours to drag. In fact, I want it to drag so slowly that it feels like a lifetime. Because in 2 days and 22 hours I get to go to London again, but I also get to see Fitboy for what will likely be the last time.
It’s a bittersweet feeling, and I don’t know whether to jump for joy or cry. Some of you will recall Fitboy and I haven’t been on the best of terms recently, but it’s gotten better. A lot better, actually. We just spent the last three hours talking and it wasn’t awkward or tense at all. We’re almost back to normal, really. We just need a bit more time to talk and figure things out, but that time just isn’t available.
I wonder where we’ll stand when I get on that plane and he gets in his truck. I wonder if he’ll keep his promise to come back in August. I wonder how important I really am to him. 2 days and 22 hours to find out.