Crossed out

Pre-workout fuel: Slice of whole-wheat toast
Workout: 20 minutes upper body with weights; 15 minutes stretching; and 2.2-mile walk with Denali.


I'm not going to lie ... I was a bit disappointed this morning. I was walking Denali, just past the elementary school and noticed an adorable fifth-grade boy with fiery red hair. Wearing a bright yellow vest, he ushered across a fellow elementary school student. Me? No notice at all. Not even Denali got a glance. So much for the two of us crossing the street safely.

You see, I would often run by the school in the spring during my Flying Pig Training. There's a nice incline and it was the closest I could get to hill training here in the FW. Nearly once a week - sometimes more often if I included it on a walk -- I would pass the school. Each time I would pass, even if I was doing repeats, the fifth-grade crossing guards would stand in the middle of the street, with their little signs, and make sure I was safe. A bit weird and cute all at the same time.

So you see, I half-looked forward to my fellow ginger helping a girl out this morning. A return to routine. An act of chivalry. Instead, all I got was a half-decent walk that stretched out some semi-sore legs.

Snarkfest and celebration of the last long run

Pre-workout fuel: Slice of whole-wheat toast with Peanut Butter & Co. Dark Chocolate Dreams and sliced banana
Mid-workout fuel: Blueberry Roctane and Chocolate Gus
Workout: Ran 12.01 miles in 1 hour, 46 minutes and 26 seconds; average pace, 8:51.

To the person (who knows me) who asked me if I really did run all the way to her neighborhood, yes. Yes, I did. And I sort of wanted to die doing it.

To the woman who almost hit me today because red lights are apparently just a suggestion, why don't you find yourself at mile 10 of a 12-mile run and just the thought of stopping gives you a cramp. If you do that, then yes. Yes, you can roll through the light.

To my legs, which felt like 30 pound weights dangling from my torso, eff you and eff you. Just because we only ran one mile over 9 minutes doesn't mean you can crap out at mile 6 and barely move by mile 11.

To my husband, who gulped all of the water at mile 11, marriage is about caring and sharing. Especially when you have 22 ounces of water for two people and 12 miles.

To the people at Target who stared at me, in my compression socks, you can stare when your butt literally hurts from running 12 miles.

To Fort-4-Fitness, bring it on! My last long run is C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E and with just one more tough tempo run to go, I am ready for you. No pain, no gain.