Sunday I woke up feeling lousy. My stomach hurt and I was kind of stuffed up. And really tired, in spite of a solid 10 hours of sleep. I didn't want to run 18K, I wanted to go back to sleep and then eat chicken noodle soup (laced with, um, Imodium). The great (and terrible) thing about training as a trio meant I couldn't do that, I had to get up and go. Still feeling lousy, I drove over to the Running Room to join the group and we set out on what I grudgingly acknowledge was a lovely sunny and warm (for January) morning run. We started out running towards the mountains, which was straight into a brisk Chinook wind, which means I was in trouble immediately. I find running INTO the wind means it sucks the air right out of me so the first 2K which are usually a treat before I get all tired were tough as I wheezed my way West. We wound our way into some pretty posh neighbourhoods and I eyed their 4 car garages nervously, daydreaming of what would happen if I knocked on their door and asked to use their servants bathroom should it be required. Running was NOT improving my tummy, but we kept on trucking. Crystal had brought her awesome marathoner buddy for the run and was wearing one headphone, so she stayed slightly ahead with the lead runners and entertained us with her random karaoke (run-eoke?) Christi was foolish enough to lag behind and both keep me company and force me to keep up with the group so I wouldn't get lost. This meant she had 123 minutes of me whining to look forward to!
|Like the Evil Witch, this only looks good on the outside|
|No, I can't believe Crystal left a cookie either!|
|That's what I call a money shot!|