Since B’s hard at work at the office on a Saturday (and will be tomorrow as well), I thought it only fair that I did some work around the apartment. I mean, now that I’ve made the switch from “breadwinner” to “provider of supplemental income” I guess I should step up my Susie Homemaker game.
The dishwasher is unloaded/reloaded. Carpets are vacuumed, dust bunnies have been swiffered, kitchen floors mopped. General Sarah-messes have been tidied. And Frankie has been bathed. Now he’s running around like a nut job picking fights with Chico, rubbing his face on the (freshly swept) carpet, and operating at speeds 3x his norm. It’s hilarious. Seriously, is there anything better than watching dogs run around like they’re hopped up on doggie drugs? I think not.
Really I only wanted to write to remind you (as if you could have forgotten) that the Nike Women’s Marathon is in one week. Like, 7 days, 20 hours, and something, I’ll be lined up at the starting line shivering like a mad woman and wondering why the F I’m doing this again. And then they’ll countdown, and the gun will go off, and it will all come flooding back because THIS IS SO COOL, AND I AM AWESOME.
I’ve made every attempt to totally sike myself out – stalking the race website (which sucks, in case you expected something fabulous from Nike like I was), updating my playlist every 2 seconds, obsessively charging my iPod & Andele, and making sure my race-day outfit hasn’t sprouted legs and disappeared from my bottom drawer.
Oh, and? Creating phantom injuries.
At least, I’m telling myself it’s not real. Because, you know, I wouldn’t really be THAT unlucky to develop a shin splint the day after writing a post about how ‘LA DEE DAHHHH INJURY-FREE, THIS MARATHON IS GOING TO BE RAINBOWS AND BUTTERFLIES BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE A CRIPPLING INJURY 2 WEEKS BEFORE THE RACE!!!! WEEEEEE!’
Buuuut, yeah. I took most of the week off (which sucked, and did not help my taper crazies), live in my Zensah leg sleeves, am constantly strapped to an icepack, and even went to B’s office for some ultrasound and treatment on it. I’m squashing this shin pain, whether its imagary or not.
Tomorrow’s 12 miler will be the test. Keep your fingers crossed, because in case you forgot (in the two minutes since you read it at the beginning of this post) THE MARATHON IS NEXT WEEK.
p.s. Frankie’s crashed from his doggie high. Both dogs are passed out by my feet.