What do you do for entertainment during 84 minutes of nonstop treadmilling? Audiobooks? Heck no. Mama needs something with a beat. There I was, slogging peaceably through seven miles at a 12-minute-per-mile pace, bored out of my gourd with the same stupid music I'd listened to for weeks. Kill yourself with weights and speed intervals and incline? Yes. Something. Anything! I'd never been fit enough to become super bored while exercising. I should be more proud and less annoyed.
I've recently become a slogging fiend — a slow jogger for those who aren't up on the word I invented. It describes my running capacity perfectly. I can slog along for hours, sweaty-but-not-breathless, and feel quite superior to George's twenty-minute speed drills. I'll outrun everyone, just, you know. . . eventually. And once I found stretches to ward off the voodoo curse of January shin splints, I made myself a training calendar for free online. (Everyone knows I like a good checklist.) Nine weeks later and here I am right on track in my training. Bored.
Out of the blue George has saved me. Finally installing the television I got* him for his birthday in February. I spent today's short run mesmerized by the Disney channel. Aaaah, yes. This will at least keep me decently amused for the next two weeks, until the weather brightens and the trails dry. At this rate, I am going to breeze past my mileage requirement for the year. I've already logged 94 miles, 30 this month. One burning question: when is it time for new shoes?
*If you call purchasing someone a gift with their own money a "present" then, yes, I got it.