I'm not a fast runner, like, at all. But I don't run fast as I can because I want to be able to run this 1/2 marathon without stopping to walk. If I run as fast as I can, I tire out WAY too easily. This means I need to take a slow and steady wins the race approach. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to go fast. Who doesn't want to finish at a good time?! But I'd rather opt for slow and steady and finish at an okay but not great time, than tire out early and totally give up six miles before the finish line. Here's some possibilities of what that would look like.
So anyway, I trucked around the track for about 2 hours, before we collectively decided it was enough for the night.
When I looked at my nike+ (which helps track your time, distance, pace and etc) I couldn't believe my eyes!! A 9.50 minute mile average?!?!?
YES!!!!!!!! YESYESYES!!!!
Oh. Wait. There's seriously no way at all that 9.50 is accurate.
MAYBE IT IS ACCURATE!!!!!!! What if it's accurate you GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!?!
No. Nope. There's no way that's right. I will never be able to run that speed consistently. My fastest mile EVER is 9.56, and I was trying very very hard.
Bitter discouraging loathing of myself and my lack of speed set in. And a feeling of damnation towards the nike+ for getting my hopes up.
So, feeling very diminished and defeated, Betsy took me home. When I got home, I discovered that Kevin, being the wonderful (and lets face it, extremely attractive) person he is, had dinner waiting for me. Woo!
Suddenly, an ick set in. ICK. Oh a very icky feeling. My throat started hurting. My muscles ached. I got shivery.
After managing to shovel down some food, I said I would do the dishes since Kevin was nice enough to cook dinner. I tried to get up, and then, well, I didn't. I knew dishes were not a conceivable option at that moment in time. I addressed this by saying... "like...uhhhhhh...I'm going to lay down."
Hours (or what felt like hours) went by. Kevin walked into the room to get something, and I sat up in a flash.
I'M GOING TO DO THE DISHES. KEVIN?!?!?!? I AM. I'M AWAKE, SEE? KEVIN!!! I'M AWAKE!!!!!!!!!
He had already gone in and out of the room before I said any of that, I discovered after receiving no response. So I decided to lay back down, assuming he already knew that I was fully aware of the fact that I needed to do the dishes, and that I was planning on honoring my obligation.
Guilt at taking so long eventually overtook me, so I got up. My throat still hurt. I was still achy. I was still living with a knotted stomach at the despair of my disappointment in not having a 9.50 minute mile speed.
Anger slowly built with the pain of achy muscles, then exploded like a reactor.
"KEVIN, it's like you TRY to see how many dishes you can get dirty in the course of making dinner. IS THAT WHAT YOU DO?! You sit here and go... "hey, how can I make as many things for Mary to clean as POSSIBLE??!?"
Kevin: um, no?
"YES YOU DO. I see how you are, all, sitting over there with a secret grin on your face. I'm sorry I wasn't home at a time you thought was adequate enough for dinner to be served and that you had to do it yourself. But next time, let's not punish me by leaving an entire KITCHEN full of DISHES in the SINK!!!"
Kevin: silence.
Before I even finished saying it, I knew I was in the wrong. But was I going to admit that? Of course not! Saying something awful and immediately conceding defeat would open the door to backing down in future arguments. And everyone knows that a marriage will not work if one party is a doormat. Right? And um, plus, I hate being wrong. Actually, there's no valid excuse except that I don't like being wrong. So I went to bed.
I woke up this morning, throat still hurting and ashamed of my lash out. And I still feel like this.
Moral of the story: running will turn you into a blob of anger and despair. And it will mug your family. And it will give you the Bubonic Plague.
ps,
That weird looking blob thing is actually a FISH! It's called a blobfish. Isn't that crazy?!
