...you know, sad pathetic noise. So my run yesterday went as follows: Take cold medicine, take vitamin c, forget powerbar, forget gatorade, forget ice (for my shins), forget head phones (for my head) and run anyway. I made it about a mile and a half before stopping in agony. "My shins!" I exclaimed. My precious shins, that have now turned against me like Anakin against the Jedi (bastard - he was the chosen one!). So I thought, "hey, let's walk another half mile and run the two miles back!" So I walked. Then at 2 miles, I turned and ran! I got about a quarter mile before my shins hurt even worse, and it spread to my knee. Curse you right leg!! Thou hast forsaken me!
With only 5 weeks left til the half-marathon, my days are numbered (I call Monday day 1 - get it? numbered?) Anyway, if I were to shake a fancy 8-ball it would tell me that my 'outlook is grim' and I would reply, "f*ck you magic 8-ball! What makes you so magic anyway?!" Then I would cry. This is my life. But, like Robin Hood looking for his Brother John, I'll make it to the half, and I'll run the entire thing (does it count as running if you are just walking but fake running in slow motion?). Anyway, it was the worst run of my life and as if to spite me, my leg feels fine now (except for the pain).
I'm out. Go big.
-M, p, z & shredder
tfln: "(262): Care to explain to me why theres a baby food jar filled with semen in my fridge? or why its labeled as unicorn sweat? "
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