Friday after work I drove over to my friend Lindsey's house - she just moved into her first non-roomie apartment and another girlfriend and I drove over there to see her new place and indulge in some girl time. Thank goodness for girl time. Unfortunately, I spent way too much time stuck in traffic getting over there and she had quite the incident with some abusive neighbors in the parking lot (but you should click her name and read her blog post about that, because I wasn't actually there to witness it). I got home exhausted and passed out almost immediately. In keeping with the way the week went my sweet, sweet kittie woke me up at 4:30 meowing and never stopped. So I got up early Saturday too (enter: bad mood). I did manage to get quite a bit accomplished on Saturday, but I was in a huge fog. I forced myself on a brutal mile and a half run (mile and a half! that is not even that far or that long!) and then I eeked out 50 minutes of yoga. Yoga makes me happy.
We met my parents for an early dinner at Berry Hill and I sucked down a couple margaritas. Um, yes, I ran a 5k on Sunday. I'm telling you - I was in a huge funk. At that point, I was seriously considering skipping the race entirely. Luckily, I have a super supportive husband. We were on our way home from dinner and we drove past the Catholic church on the road that runs in front of our neighborhood... They were having their Spring Festival. No, we're not Catholic. Yes, we did stop.
We wandered around, listened to the country band, drank a few beers, and at this point I was positive that I wasn't going to run in the morning. I complained to Sean about it that my head just wasn't in it, and he spent the next however long coaching me through all of my complaints and self-doubt. My hubs = best ever. Seriously.
When my alarm went off Sunday morning I got up, had some peanut butter toast, made coffee for the hubs, felt hung over (big shock), and went back to bed. I woke up an hour later, checked the times for the races, checked the distance to the race, and then went back to bed. I finally forced myself out of bed and thanks to Sean made it to the race in one piece.
I killed it. Seriously. I ran fast and hard and finished 8th overall and 1st in my age group. After doing a million things wrong, it was the one thing that I needed to happen to get my head on a bit straighter. I floated around for most of the day after that. And I owe 150% of that success to my husband. He is the best race manager/cheerleader/photographer I could ask for, seriously. As I came barrelling into the finish line (and this little kid came out of nowhere and passed me - ughhh I would've been 7th!!) there was Sean, video-taping the whole thing. He is my favorite.
We drove over to his parents house after where my ravenous self devoured an AWESOME homemade taco salad courtesy of Sean's mom. Yum yum yum. I promise you that my body believes that it runs marathons, when in fact it does not. Yet.
I have a long run today after work that my head isn't entirely in yet, but I'm in a much better place than I was. Oh and my Garmin freaked out and stopped working after the race yesterday. Not sure what that's about, but it's frozen at 9:57AM. Hopefully we'll get that fixed ASAP.
Oh and I made an amazing pizza last night for dinner. Wanna see?