So I don’t think I mentioned it over here, but over the weekend I ran the Derby Festival Mini-Marathon (which is a half-marathon if you’re not from here… my friends from home always wonder). I was, in all honesty, totally unprepared. I do a mix of Orange Theory and Cyclebar regularly but the past two times I’ve run it, I trained on our crappy old treadmill in the basement. Well, earlier this year that puppy finally gave out (figured it was time to quit when the tread literally ripped down the middle) and so my regular runs came to a stop.
When I went to pick up the race packet on Friday, I had a tiny anxiety attack and considered not doing it. But I am that crazy mom that doesn’t let my kids quit if they make the decision to sign-up for a sport or try something out, so I couldn’t be a giant hypocrite and bail. I made the decision so I had to stick with it. If I didn’t, my Earl Woods-like motivational motto of “Davises Never Quit” would be thrown back in my face and I am nothing if not a prideful bia who can’t possibly ever be wrong. So I dragged my ass to the starting line and ran.
I ended up doing way better than I expected, time-wise, but was a little disappointed in having to walk a few more times than I would have liked. I’m sure I also gave off a crazy vibe since I had to talk myself through the last couple miles. If you had been running near me, you would have heard me giving myself a pep talk around mile 10. It was rough. But I finished and that was the goal. Checking it off my list for the year. Done and done.
I’ve been sore ever since but today I feel totally exhausted. So I am working from home, trying to get my house in order and resting up for this week’s fun.