This morning I woke up dreading my anticipated seven mile run.
I knew it had to get done and that it needed to happen early because the weather was forecast for 100 plus degrees with god awful humidity.
So, I laced up my shoes, grabbed my iPod, a few sports beans and tried on my new Camelbak for hydration.
Over the course of the run, here's what ran through my mind:
Hitting START on my Garmin, running from the front door:
"Wow, I can not believe I made it out without any kicking, screaming or crying and half the house is still asleep. Hot damn!"
Half mile in with Katy Perry blaring in my ears:
"Hmmm...this isn't so bad, it's overcast with a slight breeze. Maybe, I lucked out or maybe, this is the calm before the storm."
Heading up the hill toward the park:
"Jesus...I can't believe that the Chicago Half is only 50 days away. Craziness. Can I do this? Shit. What if I get lost on the subway? What if I can't find my way from the airport to the condo to the shuttle bus to the race? Do I need an iPhone? Yes, I need Siri or is it Suri? No, that's Tom Cruises' kid...speaking of which, she's going to go to a Catholic school...so cool...
Oh fuck, I need to get Sam and Kate's uniforms. Damn it....why am I always waiting until the 11th hour to do this shit?
I want to be one of those moms with lists and budgets and organization. Yes, I resolve to be organized. Who am I kidding? The office is a nightmare and it looks like a homeless person lives in my car."
Rounding the 3rd Mile and "Footloose" comes on the Playlist:
"I love this song...whatever happened to Sarah Jessica Parker? She was so cute in that movie and then she became bitchy.
I need to lose 10 more pounds and then I will wear a bikini....oh my God, that man is creepy...stop smiling at me..."ON YOUR LEFT!" Thank God.
What is it about losing weight and me? Why is it always top of mind? Fuck it. After this run I'm buying a bikini and underwear, thongs, maybe I'll get crazy....that's right. I'm owning it."
Headed into the 5th mile with a Cramp:
"KILL ME...Sweet Mary, Mother of God...please make it go away....I promise I won't drink, I won't curse, I won't fantasize about the hot gym guy...please take the pain away."
Finishing the 6th mile with a Smile and Christina Aguilera:
"That's right, I'm a fighter, baby. Holy Hell...I want a hamburger. A big, fat, juicy, greasy, yummy, cheesy burger...RIGHT NOW!
And this is why, I'll not be wearing the string bikini anytime soon."
Stretching on my porch, Hitting STOP on my Garmin:
"That was good. Can't wait for next Saturday."
These are the thoughts I can publish...you can imagine the others.