the girl racer

last weekend i ran the country music half marathon.
i woke up at 5 am to run 13.1 miles.
what the hell was i thinking?


mile 1
spectacular adrenaline rush

miles 2-4
painful.
the body is not interested in warming up.
things still hurt at this point.
i decided to bag it and focus on finishing.
i cursed the 3 pounds i've earned from patio drinking
and looked around for cute boys.

mile 5
good again.
things stopped hurting at this point.
endorphins are lovely.

mile 7
i got hot and threw my sports top on the sidewalk.
at this point i quit looking for cute boys because i didn't want to see any in my state of toplessness.
i want the sports top back, but someone on belmont boulevard now owns it.

mile 8
trucked along at what i believed to be a tortoise's pace.
apparently a really hot guy gave me some accelerade.
i didn't notice, but he did.
he told me this at the shell station wed night, but hasn't called yet.

mile 9
fuck, my hip muscles and feet hurt.
i promised to never run a half again.
i decided to stick to a 15K max.
i have holes in my feet right now, as i type this.
hot. super hot.

mile 10
i realized i am actually going to finish in under 2 hours as long as i don't walk.
got a permagrin because i'm faster than i think.
i thought it would take me at least 2:10 this year.

mile 12
the cheerleaders at my school screamed at me with joy as i cussed under my breath.
well, maybe not so under my breath- that hill was the worst thing ever.
seriously.
ever.

and i finished.
proceeded to a mexican restaurant.
took 2 hydrocodones.
ate monster quesadillas.
drank a margarita.
ate a pint of ice cream and a nutty buddy.
took a nap.
went to a wedding.
ate TONS of wedding food (2 pieces of cake in there somewhere)
drank 9 vodka sodas.
ate at waffle house.
went to bed at 2am.

my training regimen for this half marathon put me at a 8 min 50 sec mile.
my training regimen was to run 16-20 miles a week.
and consume copious amounts of alcohol as a rite of spring.
that's it.
i've decided that i'm done.
being a weak-ass that is.
it's on.

im committing.
the memphis is going down in 1:40 instead of 1:56.
i'm going to the track.
i'm doing fartleks.
sleeping with some ugly track guy for training advice.
whatever.
if i'm going to be blogging on friday nights, i at least need to be fast.