(I am slowly loading pictures from my last race, which was like, a long time ago. Hey, Procrastination is in the title - there's truth in my advertising....)
WOW!!! What a weekend!!
I don't know about you, but my weekend was filled with babies and triathlon.
I figured it was bound to be some sort of foreshadowing into my future.
Between my besty's baby shower on Sunday (and the fact that everyone in my life is either preggo or new mommies), and the Chicago triathlon (which I was unable to attend this year due to said baby shower, but the Tri For Life guys were town gettin' their triathlon on again!), and all the Ironmans this weekend (Mark Mason and Dennis from RunBubbaRun abd Michelle's husband earning their IM medals), there has been a lot going on.
I'll tell you what - its really hard to watch these IMs and not get teary-eyed. Even now, I get so overwhelmed with the enormity of it, and I can still feel all the emotions that ran through my body that day in 2008, now as I watch these athletes make their blaze their own way. I love it, I love it.
So congrats to all the finishers from yesterdays races, and with IMWI right around the corner, there are plenty of cheering to still be had!!
And if you stay tuned in, there might just be a little IM surprise in a day or two...
In other random news....
As if personal training didn’t destroy and humiliate me as it is, I was about halfway through my third blocks of moves and could see the finish in the near distance, and what do ya know?
My lady friend creeps out to say “Hi.”
I sensed she was acomin’, but I was hoping against hope she wouldn’t pull into town until maybe, say, once I got home and wasn’t caught…off guard.
Completely mortified (thank GAWD for my black running tights), I silently prayed that I wouldn’t have to do anything that required me to sit or lay on a bench.
Throw in some kick-in-the-gut cramps and sanity-destroying back pain, mix it all together and you get a sick-to-her-stomach 33-year-old just fighting to stand up and keep down the Kashi bar she ate about an hour previous.
But true to my form, I refuse to admit defeat or let my semi-pro basketball trainer see weakness, so I swallowed my vomit and did my plyos and lunges with a grin on my face.
It’s been an awesome morning, and it’s only 830.
At least I get to go to Ravina tonight.
Carrie Underwood, bitches.
You heard me.
My hairbrush-turned-microphone is already packed in the picnic basket, ready to make it's big Ravinia debut.
What? You didn't think I actually used it to brush my hair, did you?
So three cheers to getting my workout done for the day, and three more cheers for the Tylenol 3 I’m going to have to medicate with just to deal with these cramps.
And three cheers for Underwood! Ms. Carrie, if your nasty!
Big kisses and hugs, y’all.