Blaming the heat

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July 16, 2011 by Amy B

Broken down: that’s how I felt this morning when finally shuffled back to the house after a long morning of running.

I hadn’t planned on being on the road longer than 2:31. Doing the math in my head (which is sometimes challenging while running, depending on how long you’ve been trucking along), that meant 14 miles at 11:00/mile, the slowest I really want to be going on these long training runs.

I want to take the time to mention that I had written a long paragraph or two on the run here and WordPress.com ate it. And I’m not fucking rewriting it. The condensed version:

• I didn’t end up running 14 after GPS died and in general, the Nike+ GPS is absolute shit when it comes to accuracy.
• I’m not happy with the run results, but it was hotter than hell out (I literally melt in anything over 75F) and I’m just happy I put in the time on my feet.
• It took about four and a half miles for my legs to feel a little better than completely shot. The last three miles sucked. Everything in the middle was just so-so. It was hard to see with sweat constantly dripping in my eyes. The end.

The afternoon was spent at a birthday party for a friend of ours at a local watering hole/beach club. The party was scheduled right at the time when Sophie usually takes a nap. So yeah, that was a really great idea.

Not pictured: a two year old sweating, screaming, and making those sounds only audible to dolphins and dogs. We did have to stay long enough to enjoy our favorite beer (free) and a burger from the grill.

I was really craving watermelon so I grabbed this at the grocery store. It’s all about rehydration and my watermelon addiction.

Also, this ice cream has been on my mind since I first saw the Ace of Cakes dude on a container in the grocery freezer section. I finally caved.

Duff, do you feel a little dweeby seeing your mug on an ice cream carton? I would. (I feel the same way about billboards with huge faces; I just can’t imagine walking around and seeing my face plastered on things.) Then again, you’re probably using Blue Bunny dollar bills for toilet paper. That would make up for it. (And for the record, I think Duff rocks and deserves every success in the world.)

The ice cream was sweet, but good. It did remind me of my wedding cake (which was one of the only parts of my wedding day that I enjoyed). Duff Goldman, you’re welcome for my contribution to your food franchise empire. Rock on, Cake Man.