Haha. That title is super lame, I know. But, since I got 3 1/2 hours of sleep last night and have the world’s most raging headache right now, I really don’t care.
Anyways, how’s your week going? I’ve been lost in a blur of end of the year work, yearbooks, lesson planning, summer planning and writing 103 notes to my precious students, which makes me cry and feel all sad that they will soon be gone.
In between all of this, I am still working out. Every. Single. Day. OK, except for two days last week, one of which I skipped due to work, and one because one of my best friends was in town from Washington DC, so dinner and fro-yo were definitely in order. But, I digress.
The good news is that I’m getting to that point, mentally, when I really look forward to the gym everyday. It’s an hour where I’m not making dinner or sitting in a meeting or having 13-year-olds repeat my name over and over again. I can just blow off steam, not worry and enjoy sweating my guts out. Also, I’m seeing slight improvements: running is getting easier, I can lift heavier weights and I’m able to do a bit more each day.
The bad news is that the scale is not budging this week. It’s a special time in my month, where I retain every ounce of fluid I consume, cry, act like a giant bitch and generally feel like I weigh about 50 pounds more than normal. If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, congratulations on being a boy or a totally clueless female who needs to watch a special video reserved for 4th graders.
Other big bummer of the week: I hurt my knee. Not seriously, but apparently, the impact of my fat ass hitting the ground while running makes my knee scream out in pain, leading to a nasty pain under it that my trainer calls “Runner’s Knee.” It should probably be referred to as “Huffing and Puffing At A Snail’s Pace While Looking Like An Idiot Knee” for me, but whatevs. The remedy is no running for a few days, icing the heck out of my knee, ibuprofen and rocking one of these bad boys:
Is it wrong I’m a little proud of it? I’ve never been an athlete, and therefore I’ve never ever been able to wear something like that. I mean, I’m an indoor gal, and there’s no support for wrists overworked by holding up books or anything crazy.
The other cool thing is that this whole being unable to run thing? Makes me want to run more. This should reveal a lot about me. Tell me I can’t do something, and I’ll want to do it more. Such a Taurean characteristic. But it’s true: I’ve already shared my secret dream of being a runner. Andrew and I were totally discussing how much we want to be runners, even if it kills us. I totally want to look like this:
But for now, I’ll settle for running my mile and a half for my assessment on Saturday under 20 minutes.