8.36 and 12 = Pain

Just because I don't post doesn't mean I don't run. Actually, it's kind of more like the opposite. The running is definitely increasing, because (drumroll) I actually paid money for the marathon and booked a motel room.

Try backing out of that. This is something I must do for my life to be complete. I'm not sure why. No, I am sure why. I hate it when someone asks me if I've ever run a marathon. Usually what I say is "I trained for a marathon, but I didn't finish." Anyone who's run any distance will understand the amount of miles that go into marathon training, but they still will only hear the hated, big three letters: DNF.

It's not like I can say:
"I spent months and months training for the marathon running every fucking Sunday morning up at Germantown road mostly by myself and then one day on an average training run with my work peeps I was running down a hill to finish the run and turned my ankle really bad and it hurt and I got up and kept running but my ankle swelled to the size of a grapefruit and I've never had a sprained ankle and had to stop running for at least four if not six weeks and then when I came back I must have been compensating for it because I developed this awful IT band injury about a month or so before the marathon and I researched it and stretched it and even took Vioxx which is now banned which explains a lot doesn't it but I had already paid for the marathon so I had to run it and at four miles in the IT band started hurting but I kept going but about mile nine I could barely bend my leg and I was having trouble stepping over railroad tracks on the course and I hated having to walk and it killed so bad so I stopped at 13 miles came home ate three doughnuts and watched the Eagles and had a pity party and felt like a big fat loser ever since."

It would just take up so much time, right? So anyway, I had small victories this week and last. Last week I did all the running and logged +31 miles. I also ran 10 miles on the Springwater trail with a person I didn't know who I just "bumped" into on the trail. It's one of the nicest things about running--the community. She was also a mom of two small kids, a Weight Watchers lifetimer (oh yes, I am!) and nice enough to engage me in conversation as I tried passing her at the slowest possible pace.

This Friday I had my speed workout. I did mile repeats (just two, don't get excited, Elf) and I am happy to report that although my goal was to average 9:20, I did 8:36 and didn't die. Very happy about that. The next day (yesterday) I ran 12 miles and almost died. Even though I wanted to call it a day at 10, I toughed it out.

Now, if I could please see some weight loss on the scale? What does a person have to do for chrissakes?