Last Saturday marked the first of my 11 mile runs and while you might think I'd be stressed about the mileage, I was more concerned about the after-mileage effects that have historically occurred as a result of my 11 mile runs.
Even though I didn't have any big plans for the day, I didn't want to be strapped to the loo like in recent years.
Thankfully, Excedrin-gut wasn't an issue as I didn't wake up with a migraine, and so, I went on my way running 11 miles with my Camelbak and Luna Moons as planned, trotting past the Too-Far-To-Drive-To Lunardi's market right on schedule.
Except people were still sorta staring at me. Like I was a freak. Like, Hey, Mable, should we call a cab for that poor girl because why else would someone be outside in shorts IN THE RAIN early on a Saturday morning?
Yes. Thank you, Nature, for blessing my first 11 mile run with a 2 hour deluge which had me soaked to the skin by mile 5.
And then, thanks again, Nature, for sharing that special weather with me this morning as I went out for my 3 mile tempo run so that my neighbors could just reaffirm their belief that they live next to a certifiable maniac.
That's the only reasonable explanation as to why a woman of questionable fitness would be running around town at 7am in shorts and a tank top during a complete downpour.
I often think that if I actually looked the way I imagine myself to look (yes, I'm delusional, this is true) rather than the way I actually look, people would think I was, like, a hardcore athlete instead of a crazy person out trying to get in shape on a whim.
I think this goes back to my whole self-conscious runner image problem.
Anyway, despite the fact that I still don't look like this chick, despite years of running (can you believe it's been years now? Crazy.), I like to think that running in the rain gives me some points on the board for those days when I have to bow out of my runs due to extreme heat. Like I feel less guilty for not running on those days because, well, I ran in the rain damn it and that is dedication right there.
Pay no mind to the fact that running in extreme heat is my excellent and proven way of getting heatstroke and should, in itself, be a deterrent. Not important! You know me to be ridiculous!
And speaking of ridiculous, I have actually hatched a plan for running hills in preparation for the hilly Seattle Rock N Roll Half Marathon and this plan is called...dun dun dun...
If you live in the Bay Area, you've likely heard of The Dish. And, if you've heard of The Dish, you've likely heard someone bitching about The Dish. Perhaps something to the tune of, "I walked The Dish on Saturday and GEEZUZ am I still sore."
And that is because The Dish sucks. To walk. Because it's hilly and steep in places.
Now, I will say, that if you follow that link I plopped in up there, you'll see Yelp reviews from psychos that love The Dish and like to talk about what a great workout it is and that is because people in the Bay Area are crazies. Fitness crazies.
I don't think it hurts that The Dish is in the Stanford Foothills and I think we all know that Stanford=Crazy. (Sorry, Cal fan, here.)
Regardless, the legitimacy of The Dish's hills are renowned and so, I will be doing my hill training on them. It is possible that there will be tears. And there will definitely be swearing. Likely, I will be passed by someone wearing American flag shorts because that is my life.
A life of shame and slow running and being humiliated during most runs by a man in his 70s passing me with his flag shorts just whipping in the wind.
To make things all the more perfect, I'll just assume that it'll either be 90 degrees out or raining the rain of a thousand winters.
Yay for the Month of 11s.