About two weeks later, I'm back to blogging. In fairness, I started a couple of other posts last week, but never finished them. Those who know me well are certainly NOT surprised by this. To say that I should have "Procrastination" as my middle name is an understatement.
Sarah informed me today that she had good news. She should have put "good" in air quotes to add the appropriate sentiment because the news she delivered was that there are 95 days until our mini. Ninety. Five. Days. This did not seem like "good" news. It hit me as "Oh, my gosh, are you kidding me?" news. At the beginning of Week #4, I'm not anywhere NEAR where I was. I'm topping out at a consecutive mile of running before a rest break. NOT what I want. I feel like a pansy.
On an up note, I loaded my iPod with the entire Twilight saga and Harry Potter series. For some reason, if I'm able to focus on Edward and Bella's forbidden love, or "The Boy Who Lived," I'm less likely to want to rip my lungs out of my chest. Speaking of my lungs, I am desperate for the weather to be better. I truly believe this treadmill running is worse because there are days that I just don't feel like there's enough oxygen in the weight room to energize the 50+ grunting student athletes AND me.
Finally, Sarah has mono. Actually, she has the virus formally known as mono since she's too old to actually have mono. (Credit for that quippy title belongs to Brandi or Rhonda, not me...it was a Blue Day lunch creation.) In all honesty, she's been a much better trooper than I think I would be were I sick with "not mono." Again, those who know me will tell you that I tend to be a bit of a whiner...Ok, fine. I'm a ridiculous whiner. I've also been known to stomp my foot in protest. That being said, when Sarah sucked it up and trained yesterday, I was impressed. So impressed, in fact, that her dedication caused me to run by myself today because Sarah had to put on her "Mom" hat and take a sick toddler to the doctor. (Poor Miles:()
So here we are...95 days...on the way...to a mini.