Hot Chocolate 15k...

After the Too Cold To Hold on Sunday, I really wasn't looking forward to running again six days later.  But I did, and I finished.  And I don't really have all that much to say about it except thank goodness it wasn't as cold as it was a week earlier.

That's not to say that the run was bad.  Actually, it felt better and I ran faster than I did in the other race just days before.  Plus, it was neat to run up Swiss, down La Vista and through my old neighborhood in Hollywood Heights (despite that b*tch of a hill).  I guess, I'm just tired and relieved I finished strong.

I think I need to take a break from running.  A least from running so far so often.  I've been averaging somewhere between 15-25 miles a week now for about nine months, which really isn't all that impressive.  But I've got this dang foot injury.  It showed up in October when we started training in earnest for the ill fated December half, and it just isn't getting any better.  Granted, in recent months, it hasn't gotten substantially worse, but I'm tired of all the hobbling.  I don't necessarily want to stop running altogether, but I wouldn't mind scaling things back a bit.  If only because I'd love to be able to get up without all the limping if I need to pee in the middle of the night.

I know.  I dream BIG.

Also:

Dear Trevor,

There is nothing wrong with a 5 or 10k.

Love,
Deals

Really, I blame myself.  I've always encouraged Trevor to run, and now he is.  And we've been able to run together and it has been fabulous.  Since Trevor started running distance last August, he has lost thirty-five pounds.  I've gained two.  Part of me is so proud of him, and the other part kind of wants to stab him in the eye.  It is a complicated emotion.

It is like that time I stopped drinking soda and lost zero pounds.  And then - years later - Trevor did the same and lost ten.  Men and their metabolisms are effing a$$hats sometimes.

So, I'm sure Trevor will continue to run to spite me, which is terrible because the competitive side of me HATES IT when he is besting me in anything.  So, more than likely, my break from running really won't be a break at all.  I may simply refrain from registering for any new races.

Which?  YOU ARE WELCOME!  Because it is supposed to be SEVENTY DEGREES in Dallas this weekend.  We will take all the credit because it makes perfect sense that the weather would rebound to "glorious" for no other reason than Trevor and I aren't running in a race this weekend.  Seriously.  It just can't be all coincidence and "winter".  Especially since there wasn't a weekend day in January where the high was below 65 (note:  we ran ZERO races in January).  We've signed up for five races since the last week in November, and the warmest it has been at starting time was a blustery 40 in the POURING rain and thunder.  And yet EVERY OTHER WEEKEND IN BETWEEN?  Lovely. 

We've definitely gotten the hint, Mother Nature.