This is not the Finish Line

Well, it’s a week later (and I blame the delay in posting on glycogen depletion) and up to about Thursday I had minor difficulty standing up and sitting down. Which is awesome. Because the difficulty was only minor, and my legs still work.

Marathon over, bitches! Yippee!

When I got to Tasmania, I was mostly happy (and ashamedly disappointed) that the race would be going ahead as planned. The air quality was great, and I think the wind was blowing the bushfires back on themselves. I may have drunk a little more than I should have in the few days before the race, and I also may have eaten badly. I was super-stressed about the race itself, and the drinking was as an alternative to thinking about it. When forced to think about it, I didn’t think I’d be able to finish. I anticipated pain.

I put off thinking about it for long enough that the night before the race I hadn’t even finalised the basics, like breakfast for the next morning, or how I was going to get to the race.

The breakfast issue didn’t get sorted until about 9pm on the night before the race, when I stumbled back to the hotel, fairly drunk, with some muesli bars and yoghurt I’d bought from a supermarket up the road. Not my finest moment.

The transportation issue sorted itself eventually, but I really should have planned better. I set my alarm for 3:45 and upon waking and groaning and swearing, I forced a nasty muesli bar and three quarters of a tub of unappetising yoghurt down my gullet before hitting the road and walking to the race hotel in hopes of catching the 4:45 coach to the start line. If not, there was a bus at 5:15, and an absolute last chance bus on 5:30. It was a fifteen minute walk over to the race hotel, actually a pretty good warmup, and I managed to get a seat on the first bus.

The weather was pretty freezing before the race. It was windy, pretty much par for the course as far as Hobart is concerned, and it looked like it was going to rain. I was loathe to check my bag too early, as I didn’t want to surrender my jacket. Man, I’m so not hardcore. Shivering out in the pre-dawn and whinging about the cold, hoping my painkillers would kick in before any possible hangover hit me (a hangover which never actually arrived, so I must have been relatively good the night before).

Before the start, I saw Cathy Freeman out by the portaloos. It was quite a treat. I thought that’d be the only chance I’d get to see her on the day, being as she was all athlete celebrity and everything. Yeah. I was kinda wrong.

I started out not very well. A little too fast, and I could tell it was too fast for me, but my GPS told me I was right on pace. So I felt like that was a fail, straight off the bat. I didn’t expect that I’d make it the whole way. I settled down into 6 minute kilometres, and told myself that I’d reassess a couple of kilometres down the road. My knees started to hurt. My shins started to ache. And I hadn’t even done the first two laps of the Cadbury estate yet, let alone started down the long out-and-back loop.

That really sucked.

I got an early second wind at about 3 kilometres, when the race announcer suddenly called out “And it’s Frankenberger! Frankenberger?”

I smiled and nodded at the guy, because he seemed a little confused. I’d forgotten for a moment that I was wearing my moniker emblazoned on my bib, like an elite. It gave me a little shock to hear someone call it out.

“Frankenberger. Okay then. Way to go, Frankenberger.” He said, after my confirmation. I don’t know why he was so befuddled by my name. It is actually a real surname, after all.

I coasted high on the wave of my own awesomeness for a while after that, mostly because I was heading downhill. A couple of water stops passed me by, I poured some water on my head, and my legs eased up on the niggles.

Then, about 12km in, after walking through a water stop, I saw a lady I’d met before the race and decided to pick up the pace a little to catch up with her and have a chat. Ran alongside her for two kilometres or so before I noticed that an awful lot of people were giving cheers and encouragements. I didn’t really think they were calling out to me. When someone said “Go Cathy!” I turned my head and realised that we’d been running right in front of Cathy Freeman for some time. And I’d overtaken her after the water stop.

That’s something kinda cool. It sort of fell apart later as I had to take a bathroom break, but it was definitely an experience, and the first 20 kilometres were pretty dang fast because I wanted to stay ahead of the olympian. So sue me. I’m silly.

The race went downhill in the second half, figuratively speaking (as the course tended more toward the uphill). It wasn’t so much that my lungs weren’t keeping up, but everything just started to hurt and it seemed a whole lot harder. I got a blister maybe 20 kilometres into the race, on the sole of my right foot. The sock was dragging across it, and it hurt like a bitch. Super fun-times were over.

30 kilometres in, I was pretty much done. It was windy, and cold, and I was on the verge of bonking (if not already there). Between here and the end of the race, I don’t know if I ran more than a kilometre at a time before having to take a walk break.

I do have to say one thing for the Cadbury Marathon, and that’s that the people were super nice. I chatted with a couple of folks before the race, and during the race I chatted with some more. Everyone was supportive, and awesome (apart from the girl who swore her head off at me, seriously, wtf? But I’m not going to hold it against her. She was hurting).

I’m sincerely relieved that it’s over. I didn’t run this weekend, because the lady who took the chip off my shoe at the end of the race while I sat there and sobbed told me that I could have a week off. I may run tomorrow. As much as it hurt, I can’t quite bring myself to swear off running entirely.

I’m just a glutton for punishment, aren’t I?

If I do actually run tomorrow, it’s not going to be great. I’ve been doing the Insanity workout DVDs. Lots of plyometrics. My legs won’t be very fresh.

Here, have some photos:

This is me before the race. The very face of determination. And enormous sunglasses. And horrible iPhone camera.

This is me coming into the finish. Gosh, I look happy. Probably because I know my legs won’t need to be amputated.

And this is me with my best bud. Aww. I think my face was actually frozen like that. Some sort of grim rictus. Lovely.

Welcome to Suck-Town

Heading off to Tasmania on Thursday, so I guess I should be packing my bags right now. Instead, I’m eating popcorn and watching Total Recall.

Yup. Quality time wastery. What can I say? It’s my specialty. I’ve been determinedly virtuous all year so far (7 days, a good enough record). Eating well, exercising, TV and computer off by 9, in bed by 10… But I’ve got too many worries in my head to be Little Miss Perfect tonight. In fact, I think I may well go and pour myself a gin.

I know it’s counterproductive to worry about things that you can’t change. Funnily enough, knowing that won’t help me stop. Here’s a brief summary:

1. On Saturday, I did a bunch of squats and lunges and jump squats and jumping jacks and a whole lot more of the leg-punishing variety. My legs still hurt like a bitch, and they’re still stiff. I mean… Still? Are you frigging kidding me? I did some yoga yesterday and it was seriously uncomfortable. I don’t know why my legs are still messed up.
2. The Tasmania bushfires. I don’t know what the current state of affairs is over there, but at the very least it may be smoky on race day. I hate to admit it, but for a few short minutes I hoped that the race would be cancelled so I wouldn’t have to do it. The fact that it isn’t cancelled makes me sad, and it makes me sad that it makes me sad. And so on and so forth.
3. I don’t think I trained enough. Actually, scratch that. I KNOW I didn’t train enough.

I’m going to finish my gin, and I’m going to finish this movie, and then I’m going to go and lay out all my clothes on the floor and try to figure out what I’ll be wearing in Tasmania. Then I’m going to find my e-book reader charger. If I had a cigarette, then I’d probably smoke it. But I don’t have any cigarettes, and that wouldn’t be very good for my running ability in any case.

Maybe when I’m packing, I’ll start to get excited about the trip.

Maybe I’ll become so overcome by the minutiae of packing and unpacking and checking and repacking, and unpacking again and checking then finally repacking that I’ll stop panicking about the race and fall asleep from exhaustion.

Earlier, Jetstar tried to tell me that my flight on Thursday was cancelled, even though it actually wasn’t (as determined in a hysterical phone call to a lovely young fellow in the call centre). I’ve had enough of this stress for one evening. I think the movie is about done, so I’d better get my butt into gear.

Guh. Not sure why I do this to myself. Would someone please remind me?

Hippo Nao Yarr

So… Ah… I’ve been drinking a lot of water lately.

So that’s awesome.

Need to pee a lot, but I guess you get that when you drink a bunch of water. My new boss must think I’m a lazy bitch, as I spent a lot of today either eating (just fruit and stuff) or getting more water, or going to the bathroom.

I drank like three litres today. Maybe.

…

Where the fuck did December go, by the way? I was rocking my way through November, and then bam, just like that, it was happy new year time and drinking and smoking and eating and being all chubby and shit and I can swear someone stole the last month of my life.

I’m getting my act together, but being healthy is going to suck balls for a really long while until I get back in the zone. The sad part is that I don’t have enough time to get into the zone before the Cadbury Marathon in a week and a half. I need to be more positive about it, probably, but I’m fairly sure I’m gonna be in a world of hurt. Re-reading my entry about last year’s Cadbury Half, I’m only sure of one thing - the need to sunscreen the top of my head. I wish I were more verbose about my race summary posts, if only as a reminder of how sucky a particular event was. If that’s all I managed to take out of it, it wasn’t particularly useful.

That reminds me. I need to buy sunscreen.

You know what I really want right now? The freedom to run without being in training for something. I’d love to just wake up in the morning and be all “I’ma gonna run 20km!” rather than waking up and groaning and whinging about having to run 20km.

Ah well, I guess Tasmania is gonna be fun. I like Hobart. It’s a pretty town.

Getting festive all up in here

It’s been a great week. Ran at lunchtime on Monday, Thursday, and actually managed a long run yesterday.

When I woke up on Saturday morning (late, I might add, although that’s not entirely surprising) I was telling myself that I was only going out there for a ten kilometre stagger. I had a race coming up, so why should I murder myself with a long one? That idea didn’t even last me out the door. If I was really planning on only doing ten kilometres, then why did I take water and nutrition with me?

It was a warm morning, but not too warm heading out at 7:00am. My legs were feeling fine, and the jog out to Lake Ginninderra was fairly uneventful. If I’d have been ten minutes earlier to the lake I would have considered joining the Parkrun crowd, but I didn’t have my barcode with me so I wouldn’t have gotten a time. As it was, I kept pace with the pack up around the lake and when they turned back, I just kept on going. When I got to the skate park at the other end of the lake, I turned back. Fifteen kilometres down, and just another fifteen kilometres back home.

Out and back routes are great for motivation, especially if there aren’t any buses nearby, because you pretty much have to run the whole way back. You don’t realise how hard it’s going to be and chicken out, because you’re not actually going to get tired until at least the halfway point.

Well, things were really starting to fall apart at the halfway point, but I pushed through. It was getting steadily hotter as I went. I was really hating it, and my feet felt weird (probably due to the epic blisters, but I didn’t find those until later). I got my second wind, but it never got fun again. Took a quick bathroom break at the twenty kilometre mark, and caught up with an old work friend who was there to do some fishing. That little respite helped me get back on the road with a little more pep, but like I said, I wasn’t having a super duper time.

I made it home in 3:20:49 for the thirty kilometres. Not a world record or anything, but the fact I managed it at all was a big relief. I’m keenly aware of how close I am to the marathon in January, and how few long long runs I’ve done.

I did make a pretty good discovery, though. I brought these gel chewy energy things along, I think Powerbar makes them, and they’re quite a tasty alternative to gels. One pack lasted me the whole thirty kms. Only thing is that it’s hard to chew when I’m running, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a walk break or two.

Oh, and I even stretched. Just to make sure I could actually walk, let alone run, for the fun run this morning.

So… The Santa fun run. Freaking hilarious. I didn’t know how hard it was to try to crack 30 minutes on a 5 km race while wearing a synthetic material santa suit complete with furry beard. Now I do. It’s pretty hard. We managed it, according to my GPS which tells me the race was actually closer to 5.5 km. Me and my pal Dina ran together, and although I thought I was trying to motivate her to keep running I realise that she was mostly excellent at motivating me to keep running. If I’d have done this run alone, I don’t know if I could have kept the pace up so long. After yesterday’s run, and given the costume, and my screaming headache… Yeah. Definitely an experience, but probably an experience better suited to the northern hemisphere Christmas.

The total menu:

Custard flavoured slime for breakfast.

Kilometres for lunch.

Bruised kidneys for dinner.

Delicious.

I bought this custard-style yoghurt mix, and I had some this morning. Yep. Slime. Tasty. Anyways…

Today I decided I wanted to go for a run at lunchtime. I’ve never actually done that while I’ve been at this job. Gym, maybe. But outdoor running? Nope. I put on my gear and got out on the road, turned around at about 20 minutes and went back the other way. Ended up doing 7 kilometres, which is a pretty good deal for a lunch break. Only issue I had was that I started sweating as soon as I walked back in the building and thanks to my rank running hat (which seriously needs a wash if I ever remember to wash it) I absolutely reeked of sweat. Realised I’d forgotten my towel, so showering was out of the question. I ended up spraying myself with copious amounts of deodorant and went back to work, somewhat more frizzy and afro-fabulous than I had been prior to the break. But it’s all good. I didn’t have anyone to impress, and nowhere important to be.

After my good effort at lunch time, I went to get a massage after work. Made the mistake of telling the girl that I was after ‘pretty hard’ pressure. Ow. I swear, one of these days I’ll stop being such a masochist. It was good fun, but there were eyes-rolling-back, teeth-clenching moments of pure back agony mixed in with the therapeutic stuff. Sitting on my back, going apeshit with her entire arms all at once… We’re talking a direct assault on my kidneys with her bony-ass elbows. Dear god, maybe I should take up wrestling, if this is the kind of shit I do for fun.

She really loosened up my shoulders, so I guess it’s mission achieved.

I didn’t do a long run on the weekend, because I was still feeling shit. Thursday, Friday and to a certain extent Saturday morning. Bad cramps. I guess it happens occasionally. I don’t know how I’m going to swing a long run on Saturday given that I have the Santa fun run on Sunday, but I’ll find a way. Maybe just an easy 20km. That won’t knock me back too far.

Pity party

Wah. I feel like crap. Think I need to curl up in bed and sob. Bad stomach cramps. I get those sometimes. When I stop feeling sorry for myself, I can start feeling proud that I actually managed to get out there this evening and run about seven and a half kilometres (or thereabouts) whilst in horrible pain and feeling like I wanted to stab someone so they could feel my pain too.

I got my santa suit for the Variety Santa Fun Run on Tuesday. Took a bus ride out to Fyshwick to pick it up even though I know I could just get it on the day of the race. I wanted to try it on beforehand, though. Forewarned is forearmed. Forearmed? Like, with forearms. Or with four arms. That’d be useful. I could paint myself gold and run around pretending to be a vengeful god. Then I could stab people.

Uh, what was I saying? I’m really not a psychopath, usually. I’m just distracted.

Anyway, yeah. Santa suit. It’s hard to describe. It’s a thin sort of fabric, so it probably won’t get too hot. It is however immensely huge. The pants (or should I say shorts) have a drawstring so that’s not really a problem, but the jacket is enormous and even with the belt it looks ridiculous. I love it. It’s overwhelmingly tacky and magnificent. If I was in the mood (and I’m definitely not) I would dress up in the suit and dance around until my pants fell down. I did that once, as soon as I got the suit home. It’s a definite mood-lifter. Running in the suit is going to be a real experience. Not this Sunday, but the Sunday after it. I anticipate potent awesomeness.

Run this evening was good. It felt a little slow even though it definitely wasn’t. I’m starting to get a little concerned about my knees, as they’re not recovering from each run as well as they used to. This may be down to the greatly increased weekly mileage. Not sure. I’ll keep my eye on the situation. Maybe I should be considering new shoes after all.

Hi Ho

My week and a bit of holidays is up as of tomorrow morning. I guess it’s back to the rat race with me.

But I don’t want to race rats.

They smell, and they bite, and they carry the bubonic plague. Well, some of them did.

I’m going to be all petty and pouty about this. I know my holiday wasn’t nearly as full-on or hardcore as I intended it to be. I’m fairly sure I’m no more ripped than I was going in. I blame all the cheese. But I did do some cool things.

I ran more kilometres during my holidays than I had done in the entire last month. That’s gotta be worth something. At the very least, surely I’m on track for the marathon in January.

On Friday I did my long run, as I didn’t expect to be able to run on Saturday or Sunday. I was reminded once again that at this level of training, the battle is mostly mental. The physical aspect only kicks in at the end.

I got out of bed with great difficulty, as I was full into holiday mode. But I got up at around 6:15 or thereabouts, the sun shining insistently through my window. I did all the usual pre-run things like dressing (as running naked down the road doesn’t appeal to anyone, let alone myself) and bathroom stuff (my digestive system takes it personally when I wake up early to run, and it isn’t into peaceful protests). By the time I stepped out the door, the sky was grey and full of clouds, and rain was bucketing down. Ever so slightly let down and miserable at the prospect of running in the freezing cold rain - and it was freezing, I checked - in my tank top and stretchy shorts, I turned tail and went back up the stairs.

Part of me wanted to take this as a sign from the gods that I really should go running some other time. Part of me wanted to rip off my stretchy pants and fall back into bed. But I didn’t. I actually spoke to myself at this point. “Get your jacket, get your gloves and get back out there, you stupid bitch.”

And I did. I put on my hoodie and a pair of fingerless gloves (because I’m apparently Rocky Balboa), but no beanie (because I may be Rocky but it’s not the middle of winter). I went out the door and I started running.

About a kilometre later the rain stopped and the sun came out, and it proceeded to be quite warm and rather humid, which was a shame because I had to run for the next three hours or so with a hoodie tied around my waist. This just goes to show that I should have braved the weather to begin with and quit whinging about a little bit of rain.

I was going to aim for twelve and a half kilometres before turning around and going back the other way for a total of 25 kilometres. I got distracted at the halfway point by the prospect of water (as I didn’t bring any water or nutrition along for the run. Probably a bad idea, in hindsight) and I didn’t turn around until my GPS was reading 13 kilometres. Turns out that the GPS was buggy, because I only ended up with a run of 25.5 kilometres. Not that I’m complaining. That’s pretty awesome.

It got pretty hard in the last half because I hadn’t eaten and my muscles were starting to notice, but I kept getting little bursts of adrenaline which kept me going. All in all, I’m quite happy with that long run. It even had a few of those OMG THE WORLD IS AWESOME, I’M AWESOME AND I LOVE EVERYTHING moments, which are always welcome on a long run.

I did another run this morning. Just a simple 10 kilometres. Nothing too flash, but I’m glad I got out there. The real trial is going to be keeping my momentum now that I’m going to be back at work again. I just have to think about Tasmania, and January, and a great big purple floating block of chocolate.

What? That doesn’t even make sense.

Don’t care. PURPLE FLOATING BLOCK OF CHOCOLATE!

I think it’s probably time for bed now. I’m planning to do a little bit of hulking out in the morning before heading to work.

Operation Smoking Hot

I’m currently on a week and a half of leave, as I’ve just finished a major project at work and I’m soon going to start another job. You know what this means? Hooray! Let’s work out!

I don’t have any plans to travel, and I don’t want to waste my time being all lazy. This plan really appealed to me. I get to work out hard every day, and really push my limitations. I’m being full-on masochistic about this. Cardio until my heart rate crashes through the roof, resistance training to collapse. I got myself a copy of the Insanity workout DVDs, and boy are they a good workout. Plyometric stuff just kills me, but it’s gotta be doing me good. By next Tuesday I hope to have achieved some visible results, but I don’t expect anything dramatic. Especially since the original plan also involved a drastic diet, which I decided was a terrible idea. Then I bought cheese. I’m currently eating said cheese with crackers, and drinking a nice chilled Sauvignon Blanc. But my biceps look great, and my abs are pretty fantastic.

On the running front, I’m actually doing quite well at the moment. I had a bad couple of weeks, which got me down (and stopped me from writing sooner), but I did a nice 20km run on Saturday so I know I’m still in the game. The run was fast, easy and verging on fun. There’s a song I’ve been playing recently, guaranteed to deliver that endorphin rush I sorely need at the 18km mark.

Yesterday I ran a slightly slower but still fun 10km. It was a bit on the warm side because I couldn’t drag myself from sleep early enough. 8:00 or thereabouts, but the sweat started pouring almost as soon as I stepped out the door. Yep, definitely need to start waking up earlier. Tomorrow morning I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn and do 20km. Won't be fast and probably won't be easy but I feel the need.

In other news, I signed up for a charity Santa Fun Run at the end of November, the entry fee for which actually includes a santa suit to wear for the run. Awesomeness. I’m really looking forward to this one, if for the exciting new Facebook profile photo alone. I think it’s going to be a great day. Anyone who has a spare $25 and a hankering to do a dash as the jolly fat man should come along.

Stick with me, baby. I'm goin' places!

Ah, the commuter run. It’s been a while since I’ve run anywhere to actually GET somewhere, and I kinda sorta forgot how hard it could be. If you’re running a loop, and you start to feel like shit, you can turn around and run back the other way. When you’re running somewhere to get from A to B you generally just have to keep on running. Add to that the fact that it’s not generally a premium running time (case in point, 8:30 on a really warm spring morning) and because I’m an idiot who likes to push the envelope I usually have a full pack on my back as well.

I have to say that I love the bike paths here in Canberra. If you want to get from one town centre to another by foot (or bicycle, if you’re twisted that way), there’s no better way. You just have to learn to trust the path. If you trust the path, you won’t get lost. This refers to the direction, not the distance. The distance may be way off.

I went about half a kilometre in the wrong direction this morning because I knew that finding the bike path would pay off in the end. When I got on the path, I saw a sign which told me that I was eight kilometres out of Gungahlin. That sounded about right to me, but it turned out to be a little bit of a underestimation. Add three kilometres to that, and you’re a little closer to the truth.

I almost lost my faith in the path today. I’d never gone in this direction from the city to Gungahlin before, and at one point I seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere. There seemed to be fields. No livestock, though. Or other farmy things. But as far as I knew, I could have been on the road to Yass or something. Or some other rural place about which I have no geographical knowledge. I faltered, but I didn’t turn around. Mostly, because I realised that the bike paths themselves don’t go outside of Canberra. If I wanted to run to Yass or Bungendore or… I dunno. Where else would I run? Captain’s Flat? Collector? Anyway, I’d have to do it on the roads and I’d probably get run over by a ute. Or a cyclist in stretchy pants.

Turns out I was going in the right direction after all, but the run wasn't a lot of fun, all things considered.

My nose started streaming like a tap as soon as I stepped outdoors, thanks to the fluffy shit in the air and all the hayfever-ness it causes. I didn’t have a handlerchief on me, or any antihistamines. So… Yay. That wasn’t fun. My pack wasn’t too heavy to begin with but soon started to feel stupid-heavy. The sunscreen stung my eyelids. It also didn’t seem to be working, at all.

The whole route seemed to be a hill. Never down, always up, mostly gradual. If I did it in the other direction I’d probably feel like a superhero because it’d be almost effortless and I wouldn’t know why. A couple of old guys on bicycles overtook me (fairly slowly, I’ll say) on one particularly brutal hill, and I caught up with them again at a traffic light up ahead. I said good morning, because despite the crappiness of the run I could still manage to be cheerful. They told me it’d been tough to overtake me on that hill, and I’d been going at a pretty good clip. Happy to hear that. I ran past them again in Gungahlin later, after I had just queued up to vote in the local election.

I was intending to round my run out to a proper 20 kilometre long run, but I hadn’t gone too far along the way before I started longing for a nice cool shower and some bacon. Rather than continuing along to the lake after arriving in Gungahlin, I voted and went straight home. 11.5 kms, all up. Not too shabby. I definitely earned brunch.

Bacon and banana pancakes always taste better when I’ve earned them.

Next time, I might leave my gear and just bring my usual bumbag along for the run. And maybe I’ll start out a little earlier.

The Runner's Trots

I’ve had a great week, running-wise. I slipped up on the weekend because I didn’t feel like waking up early to run on Saturday. I should know by now that it’s a recipe for disaster. If I don’t run on Saturday, chances are that I ain’t gonna run. Feeling somewhat worse for wear as a result of missing my big weekend effort, I went out after work on Monday for what was intended to be a nice short 5km stagger and turned out to be an almost six and a half kilometre victory lap of awesomeness. I did sprints, I ran my favourite Zombies, Run! mission. I listened to some great music. It was a really good one.

After Monday’s success I did some weights at home on Tuesday. Then, rather than break the chain I ran before work on Wednesday, just a quick four kilometres, because I knew I wouldn’t have a chance at night. I always go out on Wednesdays.

There was this moment on Wednesday morning. My alarm went off, half past four or something stupid like that. Rather than snooze it, I turned it off completely. Good girl! Then, I lay there in a groggy puddle of my own sleepiness for a couple of minutes, before coming to the ill-advised conclusion that the best thing to do was just go back to sleep and forget this business ever happened. Bad girl. No ice-cream for you.

I blurrily commanded my phone “Siri! Wake me up at 5:30!” and tried to return to the comforting warmth of my dream. And it didn’t work. I stayed awake. I got even more awake. After about 30 seconds of this horrifying return to clarity I had a visit from my old friend Willpower. “Siri!” I said. “Turn off my alarm! And bring me a sandwich!”

Siri did not bring me a sandwich. But she did turn off my alarm. And I went out and ran. And it was good. And I totally deserved the maxibon I ate later that night.

Surprise of all surprises, willpower seems to be hanging around. I actually fell asleep on the bus this evening. Not just an eyes-closed public transport meditation, an honest to goodness nap. After that, I wouldn’t expect to be very enthusiastic about getting back out for a supply mission in the zombie wasteland. However, as soon as I’d gotten in the door, made a quick stop to the bathroom and changed my clothes, I was outside pounding the pavement.

Tonight’s run has taught me a valuable lesson that I already should have known.

Always make sure you have the bathroom thing under control before you go out for a run of more than about three kilometres. Super important. I thought I was fine, and I was actually going quite well, until about three and a half kilometres into my five kilometre route. Then I was struck simultaneously with severe stomach cramps and the realisation that there were no public toilets anywhere near me. I had to endure the agony for what seemed like a lifetime.

This was also the moment when the other douchebags on the path decided to turn on their super-douchebag abilities just to piss me off. I had dogs nipping at my heels (in a very literal sense) and also trying to play chicken with me (they lost). I had women with prams walking side by side with other women with prams. I just love that. I also had people who would stay most politely on their side of the path until the very moment I changed lanes to run around them, when they would decide that the place they really wanted to be at this point in time was standing right in front of me. Then they would duck back and forth and laugh at me. Look, people. Just do your shit. Walk where you were walking before. I don’t care. I will run around you. I will make the extra effort. Don’t pretend it’s cute or funny that I can’t get around you when you do that stupid indecisive little dance. I will get pissed off and divert onto the grass, and for some stupid fucking reason you will consider this to be rude, as if I’m intending to cause offence by giving you and your smug antics a wide berth. Newsflash. I am. I am too good for your stupid footpath. And you are a douchebag.

Anyway, my verbal abilities were kind of limited because I was starting to get that horrible cold sweat that doesn’t come from exercise because it only comes from the overwhelming need to find a bathroom tout suite. So I mumbled a few things at the douchebags. May have been expletives. I don’t quite remember. And finally, after a horrendous ordeal, I made it home.

Please, self, if you take nothing more from this experience, please remember this. Always get the bathroom stuff sorted before you run. Always. You may think it’s over when you stumble in the door, but it’s never over. Ah, cruel nature.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have an early-ish night because that’s the only way I can distract myself from the fact that I’ve still got an incredibly upset stomach. My run has left a legacy, alright. Hope it’s gone by tomorrow.