Back up to Speed (haha, get it?) and Things I Hate Thursday!!

Whoa, I must be back in true blogging form... a play on words before the post even starts... I'm on FI-YA!

OK.  I've been paying someone to be my friend  working with a coach... the amazing and super sweet Adam... (See Adam, I even worked in a strikethrough in your honor.. does this make me your favorite student?)

Anyway, he's been putting together some super fun workouts for me and pushing me to run faster than I thought I could.  Apparently, to get to my goal of sub-2 in the half marathon, I actually need to push myself... who would've thought?

It's been going great, but after a particularly unpleasant ten miler the weekend before last, my body laughed at me and said "No more running for you buddy."   I had some pretty gnarly thigh pain and was worried I had a stress fracture in my femur.   Also, every muscle in my lower body felt like it was on fire... for about a week. 

I took some time off, and now I'm staring down into the fiery eyes of the Rock 'n Roll Chicago Half Marathon... and I pretty much have to restrain myself from pooping my pants whenever I think about the race... Tomorrow I will bring you a very special post, where I tell you all of my ridiculously lofty goals for the race and you all can come back on Monday, see that I failed miserably, and have yourselves a nice little chuckle with your morning cuppa joe. 

Without further ado...

Oh, wait, a little bit more ado. 

Ha, so this is is pretty much the reason I came back to blogging - apparently there are a LOT of things that piss me off.  My husband so sweetly asked why I wasn't blogging... and he said I'm "different" when I'm blogging regularly.  What he means is "Please, please honey, go bitch about all of this stuff to all of your blogging buddies so I don't have to hear you yell about high fructose corn syrup and when everyone just sits there at a four-way stop."

Anyway!

I HATE that I am strong enough to run for hours, do at least sixty real pushups (damn you 100 pushup challenge), carry 50 pounds of wriggly toddlers up and down the stairs, yet I am apparently completely unable to OPEN A DAMN GATORADE!!!!  Seriously, I must have the weakest little girl hands or a huge mental block, but I try to open those damn bottles and I maybe am successful 1 out of 4 times.  I once resorted to drilling a hole in the cap and pouring it out (plastic shavings and all).

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!  I actually feel a little better getting that out. :)