Ditching Fraserburgh

This Sunday I was supposed to be running the Fraserburgh half marathon with a bunch of people I am slowly getting to know (including two I plan on running with in Paris next April!).  This Sunday, however, I will be at a 3 year old’s birthday party, desperately looking for a non-sticky place to rest my weary legs.

Ian has made no secret of the fact that my running commitments irritate him because it means we “can’t do anything fun” during the weekends.  I knew his niece’s birthday was coming up and mentioned it would be fun to go, but I had assumed it would be the following weekend, as it’s closer to her actual birthday.  I assumed incorrectly.  And so, to stop a little girl crying at her birthday party (she thinks I am so cool I ‘don’t poo’) as she would obviously be upset should I not attend, I’m giving Fraserburgh a miss.

Out of a sense of guilt, I have been trying to schedule in enough runs to rack up 13.1 miles to make up for what I should have been doing.  This has led to some dubious decision making…

Last night I went to spin class for the first time since before I went to Houston.  It was brutal.  Afterwards, I slipped into my brand new swimsuit to do some laps in the pool at the gym, and try to teach Grant how to swim.  It has been probably close to a decade since I was last in a pool, and considering I was a (pretty good) competitive swimmer in my school days, I thought it was a real shame I had neglected swimming for so long.

After messing about in the pool for a while, I attempted some laps of breastroke, front crawl, and butterfly (I have always hated backstroke).  I busted out the old strokes as though I was still a teenager who swam for 2 hours a night and competed on weekends.  And after a few laps?  I was totally out of breath.  I think I’m going to try to keep up some kind of swimming regime once or twice a week, because even though it was hard – it was fun!

When I got home after the gym that night, I was pretty tired and fell asleep easily.  I set my alarm early as I wanted to get a run done before I had to shower in the morning.

When the alarm went off at FOUR FOURTY-FIVE IN THE FREAKING MORNING, I gave myself a stern talking to in my head.  My resolve was too strong, however, and I dragged myself out of bed, threw on my running gear, grabbed my ipod shuffle and shoved my keys into my bra.  Bring it, morning.

Morning brought it.  It was freezing, my lungs were burning, my legs (and entire body) were aching from the punishment I gave it less than 10 hours earlier, I didn’t have any breakfast, and I opted for no music since some of the streets I was running down had some wobbly drunks that gave off a bit of a rapey vibe.  Every time I looks down at my Garmin it was showing 10:xx minute miles.  Pathetic.  I was so glad to get home after 6 and a bit miles.  I was more glad to get into my heated apartment.  As evidence of this morning’s cold, check out the frost that accumulated on my headband:

I wasted no time getting into the warm shower (which felt like burning on my calves which had foolishly been exposed in my 3/4 length running tights), and then started beautifying myself in anticipation of work and parents’ evening.  Despite how gross I had felt earlier, I was super stoked that I was now free to come straight home after work, collapse on the sofa, and eat dinner.  Witness the glow of happiness at 6:36 am:

Despite feeling like there would be nothing more wonderful than crawling into a warm bed all day, and blurred vision after about 6pm, I do not regret my extra early run session.  Heading home after work, guilt-free, was amazing.  Probably not amazing enough to repeat the experience tomorrow, however.

Speaking of work – which I don’t often do – I have been looking at WW1 poetry with one of my classes.  They’ve just started writing a critical essay, but they have also written ‘letters from the trenches’ after investigating the horrific conditions the soldiers faced on the front line.  I thought they were so good I decided to devote an entire section on the display board to them, and using only supplies from a recycle bin, went about trying to create a masterpiece.  It could do with a few more touches, but I’m pretty pleased at how it turned out (hint: it’s meant to look a bit like a trench):

I’m particularly proud of my rat silhouettes!

And finally (dudes can tune out now), I went shopping last weekend.  Those of you who follow me on instagram will already be aware of my obsession with my latest purchase, but for everyone else, I bought some kick-ass shoes!