Last weekend I mentioned that I was going to be doing crazy ridiculous things because I’m a crazy, ridiculous person.
Well, today I ended the week of madness by running 20 miles.
How’d it go, you ask? Oh, it was painful.
Let me start by saying that I wasn’t really super excited about running 20 miles in the first place. So, mentally, yah, not excited. Then to add in all the physical things I did in the days leading up to today? Not a very good foundation for trying to set out to kick some ass.
Matt was in good spirits and did his damnedest to try to make it fun for me. He told me stories about silly people, flailed his arms about and even used multiple accents. But somewhere around mile 15, when we stopped to stretch, I texted Jess to tell her that I wanted to be shot and dragged. As soon as I hit send, Matt accidently hit my hand while he was swinging his arms to stretch, sending my iPhone sailing. I had a knee-jerk reaction that made me yell at Matt.
Emphasis on JERK.
After that, we basically ran in silence.
I apologized, but the fact that I was basically miserable for all the time leading up to my explosion kind of ruined that.
Now, I wasn’t really rude or anything like that, but I was tired, quiet and I didn’t laugh at all of his jokes.
Though, at one point I couldn’t stop laughing because of his ridiculous accent that included some southern, Australian and British touches. Then he ended his sentence with a Scottish “YO.”
I guess you had to be there.
So it wasn’t so much that I was complaining, I was just quiet and my silence oozed misery.
Our last 2 miles were completely silent. He was hurting, I was hurting.
At mile 19.4, I heard a loud “CASSIE!” and looked up and saw Shannon, an old coworker from Fridays, running past with a buddy. I yelled, “We’re at 19.4 miles!” and she yelled, “WOW! We’re doing 10!”
And off she went.
When my RunKeeper app finally chirped to say 20 miles, I called her a bitch (It’s a term of endearment, I swear) and hit stop.
Our pace says over 11 minutes, but I didn’t stop the app when we stretched, which was multiple times.
At mile 11 we had to stop for a train:
It was carrying cars.
And the dude in the car got a great view of my ass as I did a nice standing hamstring stretch. I could tell he looked pleased.
You’re welcome, buddy.
But looking at that map makes me nauseous. That’s a lot of running. All over Pittsburgh.
As Matt said, It was an adventure.
And we finished.
And because of the way Matt has on his bandanna, he has an AWESOME tan line.
I have pictures….but I don’t know if he’d want me sharing.
…another day, another day.
We got home, I hobbled into the shower, hobbled into bed and had a long two hours of cramping feet, chills, over heating, more chills and the thought of, I should probably drink some water.
Then I got up and made dinner.
And now I’m telling y’all my tale.
My aunt posted on facebook this as her status:
“Think of everything you’ve ever experienced that was painful; that’s the meaning of Good Friday. Think of all the ways that love ultimately healed your heart; that’s the meaning of Easter.”
And I thought about it and said, “YES. Yes you do. I ran 20 miles and it hurt. But I ran it with the love of my life and that’s the meaning of Easter.”
Happy Good Friday.
I’m proud of myself. I’m more proud of my husband. And I’m most proud of us together.
30 days until the marathon.
Let’s do this.