This morning's run: Distance: 2.32 mi Duration: 30′09″ Pace: 12′59″ According to my training schedule, I only had to do thirty minutes today. I decided to try to walk for three minutes and then run for one minute. That seems like a reasonable goal, does it not? The problem was that my shins were tight from yesterday's run. Yesterday was my fastest average pace, and I think I may have overdone it a bit. So my shins, especially my temperamental right shin, were not really thrilled when I got out of bed this morning and went outside to run. Nevertheless, I wanted to do a 3/1 run. This goal threw my routine way out of whack. I was running in my normal walk zones, and walking in the scary part of the neighborhood. Of course, in broad daylight (since I allowed myself to sleep in until 740a), the scary part of the 'hood is not as scary, so walking that stretch was fine. But still, it was weird to change up my routine. I was exhausted. What the hell was I thinking when I signed up to do a marathon?! Seriously. I'm a fat, old lady, I have no business running. At all. When I reached my first one minute of running, my right shin was tight. It said to me, "I'm not so sure this is the best idea today." But I told it to STFU and assured it that one minute of running would not be a problem. At minute eight, when it was time to run again, my right shin said, "seriously? Come on lady!" But I told it to STFU and assured it that one more minute of running would not be a problem. At minute twelve, when it was time to run again, my right shin said, "Okay fatso, here's the thing. I already said no, and you're beginning to piss me off." But I spoke in a soothing voice and told it that one more minute of running was a piece of cake, and if it was cooperative, we could have some cake later on as a reward! (My shin didn't realize I was lying about the cake.) At minute sixteen, my shin again voiced its reluctance to run. And again at minute twenty, when it was time to run. At that time, I assured my shin that I would not make it run any longer, but told both shins that we had to do a fourteen minute walking pace for the final ten minutes of my thirty minute run. At minute twenty-five, something disconcerting happened. I was nearing F&K's house, which is right around the corner from Pereiraville, when my right shin SCREAMED in protest. I would have gone to F&K's door for help, but they're good church-going folk. I thought about calling my still-sleeping husband to come pick me up with the car, but I would have felt really silly needing to be rescued so close to home. By the time I got home, my limp was ridiculous. I could barely stand, let alone walk. I dragged myself into the house, got a bottle of water, my two ice packs (one for each shin, a recent clearance item purchase from Target that I have used more than enough to make up for spending $1), went into the bedroom and nearly collapsed. I asked sherlock to please give me the bottle of Advil and the computer, because I could not walk all the way around the bed to retrieve them, went back to the family room, and collapsed onto the chair. I did not move for an hour. I iced my shins, took a handful of Advil, and vegged out. I was rather scared, because my right shin was so adamant that I not walk any longer. But once the Advil kicked in, and the ice sufficiently numbed my legs, I was okay to begin my day. I don't know how I'm going to do tomorrow night's sixty-minute group training. Kids, I'm beating my body into submission. Won't you contribute a buck or two to help fund cancer research?

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