Nitty gritty time
At running club last night, I christened week seven with another 8 kilometre run. Note to self: pee before you go, dummy.
© Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Rhonda Herrington Bulmer
Something wicked this way comes
Last week, the long, slow distance requirement (tens and ones) was 8 kilometres. I really tried, but I could only manage 7.6. My huffing and puffing brought me so close and yet so far.
But I did it this morning.
Tuesday thanks:
a) for the prolonged warm fall weather, b) for the pleasant (if breathy) chats with friends during a Monday evening run, and c) for youthful running leaders who run slowly on purpose and pretend they are not plodding along for my sake. God bless their skinny hearts.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me
What an ironic quote of the day from The Bard. I only ran three days last week because I was juggling two book launches for my first young adult novel, Rachel’s Manifesto. And I’m available for more dates–a great excuse not to run!
Harvest laps
Today is Thanksgiving Monday, so running club was cancelled tonight. But I did my scheduled 5K run anyway, 10 minute run/1 minute walk.
The tortoise and the hare
My quads have recovered from last week’s travelling lunges…I’ve been doing them all week trying to loosen up my thighs. They were pretty tight for the first few days. Through the miserable weather I’ve been using my treadmill.
Sign up for a 10K? Are you nuts?
Yes, I think I am. Last night I joined the first session of an eight week running club with friends and acquaintances from my church. I have been jogging for a long time, but I’ve never run with a group, let alone compete in a race.
Who needs a hospital, anyway?
It was a difficult pregnancy. Not only was I continually nauseous, but I had back pain. I was sleepless, every night tossing and turning in an effort to find a comfortable position. The baby was pressing on my sciatic nerve, making sitting down or standing up an excruciating process. But I muddled through.
The parable of the grapes
I wish I were a better gardener, because there is nothing in the world like the satisfaction of harvesting food that has been planted and grown in one’s own backyard—to see the magical transformation from bud to flower to fruit.
Did I say that?
This morning, my oldest child headed out to her last-first day of high school. It’s hard to believe she will graduate this year, and even though I still have two more children with plenty of growing left, it makes me feel as though the biggest chunk of my life is quickly drawing to a close.