I took the last month off from running, partly because I wanted to let my IT band heal and also because this one time we bought a house without realizing it would force us to spend every minute of the rest of our pathetic lives fixing leaks and trimming branches and replacing flooring and touching up paint and WHY IS THAT GODDAMN FAUCET LEAKING AGAIN, WE JUST FIXED IT.
I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be busy fixing stuff for the rest of my life, so I’ve been easing back into my workout routine. Dave mentioned recently that he wants to start running, so I convinced him to get up early on Labor Day to run a four-mile loop with me. I felt great when we started, though I should note that our house sits on top of a giant hill so really the first half mile was just gravity exerting its pull on my (rapidly expanding) mass. Or something. I hate science.
But once the road evened out I went from this:
Dave, of course, was trucking along like Hal Higdon and I really hoped the volume on his iPod was high enough to mask the sounds of my Darth Vader breathing. Fortunately, he was wearing crappy shoes and his ankle started hurting at the end so we had to walk up the giant hill back to our house. I kind of felt like an ass being all happy about his pain, but he sometimes reads me passages of his physics textbooks while I’m watching Grey’s Anatomy so I think it evens out.
Thankfully, my pathetic four miles has inspired me to get back into running shape, and I think I have convinced Dave to do a half marathon with me. What he doesn’t know is that I’m looking for Halloween-themed runs. That we can do in costumes. I’ve been begging him for years to dress up as Tobias and Lindsay Bluth with me for Halloween, but I think getting him to run 13 miles in blue body paint and man-jorts will be a hard sell.
Maybe he’ll do it if I promise to buy him a hot dog cooker.