Project Stimey Update: Discouraged But Optimistic

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Stimey

Would you look at the time? It’s May! How did that happen? Since we are nearing 2013′s halfway mark, I figured that it is time to update you on how I’m doing with Project Stimey.

Unfortunately, the answer here is that I am not sure. I have been running and I haven’t stopped running. I am fitter, I am stronger, I don’t get out of breath when I walk up stairs. My double chin is going away, I worry a lot less that someone will ask me if I’m pregnant, and I have gotten rid of all that troublesome wrist fat that holds my watch in place.

(Seriously. Why do my wrists get thinner but my ass stays chubby?)

I’m also getting faster. Last September, I was running a 14-1/2 minute mile. I’m currently running about a 13-1/4 minute mile. That is a respectable change.

So, I see progress.

But.

I am still discouraged.

Lately running has been really hard for me. I don’t know why it suddenly feels like I’m running through peanut butter on half of my runs, but it does.

I am also tired of being the slowest runner around. I know that I’ve improved, but I also know my pace is even slower than what other runners consider to be reeeealllly slow. I am tired of being the slowest person on the road.

Alex has started running. I started him on Couch to 5K and I am running with him. His endurance is not high, but he runs his running intervals at, like 8-1/2 minute miles. It is incredibly demoralizing.

I know that I’d be faster and running would be easier if I weighed less, but I don’t have my diet under control yet. I have seen some recent movement on the scale, but I hate weighing myself so I don’t focus on that very much. Also, I get depressed every time I do, so there’s another reason I avoid it.

So.

I’ve been discouraged lately. I feel like I’ve been working really damn hard and I’m not seeing results like I want. I feel like my goals are so far away. I have put myself out there very publicly as working to improve my fitness and it makes me feel sad that I am not getting the results I want to put out there.

But I’m not giving up.

I may not be getting the results that I want, but I am working really damn hard to remember that I am getting results.

I run sometimes with an awesome friend of mine. I was telling her about all of this on our last run and I was telling her that I’m worried about not being awesome enough for the 11 other people on my relay race team in September. She told me about her father, who is in his 80s, who goes to the gym every day. Her story reminded me that my goal isn’t weight loss; my goal isn’t even my relay race; my goal is to be 80 and still healthy enough to go to work out every day.

That goal I am well on my way to achieving. That goal is the one that really matters.

I’ll take that.

I thought I should let you all know how things are going, because I’m sure some of you are on the same path I am on and it is hard. I want you to know you are not alone. Some of you are scared to start or have given up because it is SO damn hard. (Some of you are on this path and are kicking serious ass at it. To you I say, rock on wit’ yo’ bad self. Way to go! Also, I hate you juuuuuust a little bit.)

I want you to keep at it. I am going to keep at it.

So, yes, I am discouraged. And I am likely to stay discouraged for a little while. But that doesn’t mean I am going to stop. I will get to where I want to be. I may not be there by September. I may be the slowest person on the course at my relay and I’ll cry a little inside and put on a brave face, but I will still know that I accomplished something.

Every time I run I will know that I accomplished something—because I am out there, putting one foot in front of the other instead of sitting on the couch eating cookies. So I am optimistic. And I will remain optimistic longer than I stay discouraged.

And that is how Project Stimey is shaping up as we enter May.

*****

Thank you to my friends the Paulsons and Ardis for donating to the Cheetah-thon. Team Stimey’s donations to Jack’s Cheetah-thon now adds up to $1015 (plus our $500 matching donation). That is a lot of ice time, you guys. That is a lot of athletes that will get to play because of you. Thank you all so very, very much. I cannot tell you how much your help means to me. For anyone still interested, you can donate online and/or you can come by the Rockville Ice Rink this Saturday, the 11th from 5-7 pm to skate with the Cheetahs!

Since You’re So Good at Giving Advice

Posted on March 31, 2013 by Stimey

You guys are the best, most informative peoples ever. I am so glad I asked for your opinion on fresh food! I want to thank every single one of you who responded to my question. I plan on emailing each of you back; I just haven’t had a chance yet. Also, thank you to those of you who offered further help. I’ll be in touch with you guys as well! Right now, I’m busy taking notes on all the wonderful comments and emails from you. Stay tuned for more on #project stimey #subprojectfreshfood!

I have another question for you. This one is aimed at the runners and sports medicine physicians among you.

So. Last Saturday while I was running, I tweaked my hip. I felt it happen and ran home another mile on it. I didn’t want to make it worse, so I stayed off of it and iced it.

(This is what the information I found on the internet led me to believe would fix me. FIXME!FIXME!FIXFIXFIXFIXME!)

By this Saturday (yesterday), I almost couldn’t feel any pain when I was walking around so I went for a very short run. After about a mile it started to hurt again, even worse than before. There was no way I could run on it today.

The whole thing has me extremely depressed.

What do I do? Anybody have this kind of thing in their hip? Will ice and rest help it? Should I go to a doctor? Do I need to amputate? Will someone assure me that I will be running again very soon? Because I am rilly rilly sad about the whole thing.

I need that advice, please! What will make me better?

Faster than a Turtle; Slower than Everyone Else

Posted on February 10, 2013 by Stimey

On Sunday, regardless of my cold and the 25-degree weather when I left my house, I headed out to my 5k race first thing in the morning.

I look more cheerful that I was. I had already jogged twice around the high school track just to keep warm before the race.

Pre-race. I look more cheerful that I was. I had already jogged twice around the high school track just to keep warm.

I’ve done a lot of running since my last road race in September—which was the 8K in which I placed 621st out of 627—so I was looking forward to vastly improving my pace.

My goal this time was to do the 5K in 40 minutes, which isn’t fast, by any means, but is respectable. At least for me. (My standards of respectability are a little different in a lot of areas, including running paces.)

Even though I was sick, this race was fun. You guys, I passed people. I mean, sure, they were children. And walkers. And one or two people running in the opposite direction. But I passed them! I even passed some runners. It was AWESOME.

And I didn’t even feel bad when they passed me right back a little bit later.

They course was kind of hilly, but none of the slopes were too long. Regardless, by mile two I was running holding tissues, sneezing, and feeling sad for myself. All that went away at mile 2.5, however, when I ran down a longish, steepish downhill. Some people were walking down it or running slowly and I blew past them.

I was all, “Gravity, bitches! Get some!” This is where being chubby comes in handy.

Remember my 40 minute goal? Well. I finished in 40 minutes. AND TWO SECONDS. I’m so mad.

But I’m more proud of me. A year ago I couldn’t have run a 5K in an hour. I couldn’t have run more than a couple of minutes. Progress, people. Progress. I am awesome.

I Have Several Things To Tell You…

Posted on January 29, 2013 by Stimey

1. You guys are great. Thank you.

2. Here’s something. So. You all know that I’ve been running (because I won’t shut up about it). Today I went for a run right after lunch in weather that was unexpectedly much warmer than I expected it to be while I was wearing too many clothes.

Anywho, long story short, I was less than a mile and a half into my run when I decided to give in and turn the run into a walk. That is not the problem.

You may know that I am a slow runner and that I am working on bringing my speed up. My medium-term speed goal is a 12 minute mile. So I was delighted that my speed on that 1.43 miles was an average of a 12:06 minute mile.

Then I walked the rest of the way home at a 13:53 minute mile pace. This is also not the problem. The problem is that I look at my distance log and this is what I see:

Side note: I know it’s not really *that* much, but I’m going to have more than 50 miles this month! Yay!

If you look at the 23rd and 24th, when I ran slightly longer distances not on the treadmill (on which I do intervals, so a slower average), my pace was more than a 14 minute mile.

WHY DO I WALK FASTER THAN I RUN?

Should I just walk? I know I slow down when I get more tired after a few miles, but COME ON. How slow must I be running those later miles if my average is 14+ minute miles? What is happening?

I mean, I KNOW what is happening is that I keep trying and the longer I run, the faster I will get, but I don’t understand.

I just had to get that off of my chest.

3. I am SO excited about this next thing. I am a new contributing writer over at Autism Women’s Network and my first post went up Tuesday. How cool is that?

I wrote about my autism diagnosis and how I feel like Jack gave me a tremendous gift by helping me see myself in a clearer light. Please go check out my article over there: The Gift of Self-Knowledge.

4. My mom has been in town visiting and is actually leaving Wednesday, much to the chagrin of my children. I wrote about how her visits help me out over at White Knuckle Parenting: When Nana Comes to Town.

5. I would like to reiterate that you all are awesome.

How to Make a Life Size Two-Dimensional Beaver*

Posted on November 1, 2012 by Stimey

* See also: Keep your perverted comments to yourselves.

Jack’s class is studying the Chesapeake Bay and has been working on a research project about flora and fauna native to the region. Jack was supposed to choose something to study and he came home a few weeks ago demanding to study the mosquito fish.

I have no idea why.

Sadly, the mosquito fish does not seem to live in the Chesapeake, so we perused a Chesapeake Bay website to find a new topic. The fact that the website was arranged in alphabetical order and that Jack chose to research the beaver are surely unrelated.

It turned out to be a good choice, however, because the beaver is a pretty fun animal to find out stuff about. Also, there are many tasteless jokes to make.

Anywho, the final project was to make a life size, two-dimensional representation of the animal. (Me, in my head: “Huh. Would have been a lot easier to make a fish.”)

Jack and I are a little bit mad about the grade he got on some science posters he worked on at school, so we were determined to make the most kick-ass beaver ever. Because we are sharers, I thought we could let you know how to create a kick-ass beaver as well.

So…

How to Make a Kick-Ass, Life Size, Two-Dimensional Beaver!

Step one: Acquire materials. Jack and I both wanted to cut up the beaver fur hat that Alex had bought when we lived in Alaska, but Alex had some sort of weird objection to that. Never mind that I had objections to him buying it in the first place.

This left us to come up with an alternative material. We decided on felt and I told Jack that I would go buy it at the local craft store while he was at school. The local craft store, incidentally, is almost exactly 5 kilometers away from my house. Ask me how I know.

I decided to combine my errand running with my daily run, which was a great idea, but for the fact that once I ran three miles and wandered around the craft store for a while (The cashier: “You look like you’ve been working out.” Me, sweaty, disheveled, and smelly: “Um. Yeah.”), I had to run three miles back home, THIS TIME WEIGHED DOWN WITH TWELVE SHEETS OF FELT—AND GOOGLY EYES. What I do for Jack.

Step two: Name your beaver. (Jeez. Every time I use that word, it sounds so diiiiirty.) Jack was prepared with a name for the beaver he was about to create: Justin. Justin Beaver. Get it? I don’t know how Jack gets it; we have a strict No Bieber rule in my house, but evidently someone has gotten to him.

Step three: Find a model and create a sketch. Hooray for Google Images. We found a beaver to model Justin Beaver on and Jack set about to drawing.

I know the model isn’t too realistic, but it has four legs and a tail, so close enough.

Step four: Try to convince someone else to do the work on every step. Before every single step, Jack would say, “Can you do it? I’m not very good at…drawing/cutting/gluing/hanging out with you while you construct my beaver.”

Nice try, Jack. You can do all of those things.

Step five: Cut out the beaver template.

See? See Jack cut.

I’m actually very proud of Jack. There was a lot of fine motor work involved here. I helped him with some of it, but he did a fantastic job and did most of it himself. For a kid who has a hard time getting through ordinary homework on a regular night, doing all this intensive work—and being motivated to do a good job—well, I am just so damn proud of him.

Step six: Be awesome. When you’re Jack, you’re required to take an Awesomeness Break now and again.

This step is pretty easy for Jack.

Step seven: Transfer the template shape to the felt, cut it out, and glue it to the template. I took photos of all of this, but then I realized that they were all photos of Jack manipulating brown felt and I thought that each photo was adorable and very different from the next, but then realized that they might all just look the same for you. So Step Seven will be represented by The Cutting of the Felt.

The Cutting of the Felt

The beaver by the way? Has a two-sheets-of-felt body.

Step eight: Take a break to figure out how electricity works. Quinn had spent this whole time playing with his jack-o-lantern as if it were his newest teddy bear. That kid is funny. Somehow Jack ended up with one of the little electric candles and spent some time figuring out how it worked.

After he started disassembling it, I thought about stopping him, but figured that the shock from such a tiny voltage was unlikely to be fatal, so I let him continue.

Step nine: Choose an eye from the pack of many sized googly eyes. This was more complicated than it might seem at first glance. I had to spend a fair amount of time trying to convince Jack that he had created a side view of a beaver, which only required one eye. Jack spent a fair amount of time trying to convince me that he should put two different sized eyes on the beaver to make him look more like Perry the Platypus.

Step ten: Glue the ear onto the beaver, then, when your mom steps away to find materials for beaver whiskers, have a “glue incident.” I swear to God, that is what he called it.

He wasn’t even gluing anything at the time. I have no idea how this happened.

Fortunately, it is easy to clean glue off of a beaver.

Step eleven: Write your name on the back, but not before you add the speech bubble you wanted to glue on the front, but that your mom made you put on the back.

That kid is irrepressible.

I admire Jack for his integrity in sticking to his vision.

Step twelve: Pose with your finished beaver in a totally realistic manner. Turns out that the beaver is kind of a jerk and just wanted to paddle Jack in the face with his tail. Not very nice after Jack created him and all.

I have to say, I think Justin Beaver turned out nicely.

Step thirteen: Enjoy special after-school video games because you worked so hard on your beaver.

I know you’re going to ask. It is called Roblox. I have no idea what it is.

Step fourteen (This step is for the mom): Send in the beaver with your kid and hope that you didn’t grossly misinterpret the assignment because, oh, dear God, that boy worked so hard on that beaver that he really deserves a great grade. Cross your fingers for us.

That’s right. I have the best beaver.

That’s what she said. (God, I’m so sorry. I held out until the very last. I am so very sorry.)

Undead

Posted on October 28, 2012 by Stimey

Well, friends. Remember how I was running from the undead at the Run For Your Lives race yesterday?

They caught me.

This is me, all cocky and happy and…clean, before I left my house:

That t-shirt became more relevant to me not too much later.

This is me, all humbled and cold and filthy after the race—and this was AFTER I hit the shower area:

Stimey were people too.

Oh, and then there was this:

Zombie clown, anyone?

So, here’s how the race works: You get a belt that has three flags velcroed to it. Your goal is to get through the race with at least one flag still attached. If you are able to do that, you survive. If the zombies get your flags, you, well, you become like me—undead.

The race is a 5k, but it’s not really about speed, as far as I can tell. There were sections where the path through the woods was packed enough with people that you pretty much had to walk. Then there were sections where I was the only one around. (Also there was that uphill dead end that I followed some people up—and back down.) There were a bunch of obstacles, none of which were too difficult, most of which were incredibly muddy, and one of which was a freezing cold river we had to swim across.

There were zombie zones scattered throughout the race course where there were zombies (obviously) who tried to grab your flags. Once your flags were gone, the zombies would maybe nibble on you, but they were far less interested. To my shame, I discovered this early on. Some of them near the end of the race would give you high fives.

I was there by myself, which was okay. In the zombie apocalypse, friends are dead weight. I’m pretty sure that surly loners do way better. Isn’t that how it always goes in zombie movies? Also, none of my friends were willing to run a zombie-infested obstacle race.

I had signed up for the noon heat (there were start times every 30 minutes) and finished checking in about 20 minutes before the start time, so I headed over to the start line and chose to be an entree.

Although maybe I should have chosen dessert because I’m so sweet.

The start line consisted of long tunnels with gates over the front of them. It was pretty creepy in there. The dude in front of me in line freaked out because a spider almost touched him. I felt a little bit like I’d found my people.

Nothing claustrophobic and horrible in here!

You should know that all of the photos here I took later in the day. I wasn’t dumb enough to ruin my electronics by taking them with me. On the course, it was just me, my three flags, and a spider that may or may not have ended up on my shoulder.

The race started, we ran through a fog, and ZOMBIES! This is the bottom of Zombie Zone 1:

Runners are bunched together here and harder to pick off. Evidently it is easier to hide in a group.

I made it through the first two zombie zones with all three of my flags and I was feeling pretty awesome. I might have gotten a little cocky. Then that zombie nun in zone 3 laid eyes on me and I was her bitch. Flags 2 and 3 were taken pretty quickly after that. See, there was a hill that slowed me down and made me easy pickin’s.

I also almost lost the free drink ticket attached to my bib whilst hurling myself over a chest-high wall, which would have been REALLY devastating.

I spent a good amount of time watching a couple of race sections after my heat and fitness didn’t seem to be the deciding factor in whether you survived or not. I saw a lot of really badass looking runners get stripped of their flags by cunning zombies. I think there was a strong element of luck and maybe an advantage of running with a group. So much for my loner theory.

From there on out, I decided that since I was without flags, I would just try to run the rest of the race, have fun, and kick ass on the obstacles. There was a muddy area and some people wiped out, landing in the mud, much to their chagrin. Looking back on it, it’s kind of cute that they were upset about such a small amount of muddy water considering what was to come.

What was to come was that river, referenced above.

There was no observation area for the river, or I would have taken photos for you, but basically, there was a river that was probably 50 feet across. There was a rope strung across it to hold onto, but the only way across was to jump in and swim. I could almost touch the bottom if I put my feet down, but I just ended up pulling myself across and paddling with my feet.

Ever run a 5k soaking wet? Through mud?

IT WAS AWESOME.

The obstacles were mostly pretty simple. There were some tunnels to climb through, barbed wire to belly crawl under, more walls to go over, mud hills to go up and over only to end up in mud baths at the bottom, and a fogged up building with dangling electric wires you had to avoid. There were also natural obstacles, such as the incredibly steep decline—followed by a similarly steep incline—that we had to maneuver.

By the time we got to the top of that hill, we all looked like staggering zombies ourselves. It was brutal.

I’d like a little extra credit considering that I ran most of this race with dried mud on my hands, which is one of my biggest sensory stressors. I mean, fortunately I was also soaking wet so I had something to wipe them on.

The good people at Run For Your Lives had saved some of the best for last though. Just in case you had dried off, there was one last big slide into a big pit full of muddy water.

See?

I stood at the top of this thing cursing for a while before I went down it. I ended up completely submerged in the murky water.

Then, just in case the water had cleaned all the mud off of you, the very last obstacle was a muddy belly crawl under an electric fence. I learned two things at that obstacle: (1) My elbows are surprisingly strong body-pulling hooks, and (2) I don’t like electric shocks.

The tall fence at the right is the top of the obstacle. See the people going under?

After the race, I headed over to the showers, which is a nice way of saying, “pipe with holes drilled into it spraying ice-cold water onto a tennis court.”

The “showers” are that horizontal white pipe on the right. They had the added benefit of making the race course muddy where it ran past the tennis court.

I have never been so happy to stand in a tent and change into dry clothes in front of strangers in my life. Thank God it was a pretty warm day. I can only imagine what it would have been like if it hadn’t been 65 degrees.

I had such a blast. I spent the next two hours taking photos and watching zombies chase runners. It was so much fun. I’m definitely going back next year. Let me know if you want to be part of my mob, so we can try to overpower the zombies en masse.

Also, because I know you find zombies as amusing as I do, I have some photos from the event to show you. Enjoy!

Warning! Zombie photos ahead!

I liked the zombies who had a sense of humor.

Also those who committed to the part. This guy was actually my favorite zombie.

Algernon enjoyed watching the zombies too.

Even zombies have to take a break.

I was there for the zombie shift change. I felt bad for the runners who got the fresh zombies. Everyone knows fresh zombies are the fastest.

Have fun eating the runners, zombies!

Lots of people donated their shoes after the race. What a great idea, huh? I wish I’d known they do this; I have some old shoes I would have loved to get rid of. And then I wouldn’t have had to lug gross, muddy shoes around all afternoon.

Algernon didn’t race, but I’m pretty sure he would have survived if he had.

Until next year…

I’m so glad I ran this race. I am endlessly entertained by zombies and I love running, so mixing the two of them together was so much fun for me. I think it is highly likely that I’ll become an obstacle race junkie, but I’m so glad Run For Your Lives was my first.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find some BRAAAAIIIINNNNSSS…

The Turtle

Posted on September 23, 2012 by Stimey

I’m not going to keep you in suspense about my 8k race.

(1) I finished.
(2) I ran the whole thing.
(3) I finished 621st out of 627 runners.

Oh, yes, I did.

In case you are wondering, I am the turtle referred to in the title up there. Slow and steady may not win the race, but it sure as hell finished it. I am really, really (really) proud of myself.

Check me out as I crossed the finish line:

Actually, this is me re-creating my crossing the finish line for my friend Barrie who was took this super flattering photo.

I had an amazing time. Alex took Jack to hockey and Quinn to gymnastics and I headed out to the race by myself. I was so happy though to have my own support team there to take care of me. My friend Lindsay was there with her kids to run the 2-mile fun run and they stayed for me. Amazing.

My friend Emily made a sign to cheer me on and she rooted for me from two different places on the race route. Phenomenal.

My friend Melissa decided to race too and she kicked some ass. I saw her run off in front of me at the start line. I didn’t see her again until the end. She’s my inspiration.

Lindsay and Melissa, each joined by her kids, ran me in the last stretch. It was really wonderful. Although I’m a little mad at Melissa’s daughter, however, for leaving me in her dust in the last meters before the finish line. Evidently, she is still claiming to have won the race. That’s her in that photo above. I think she might be wondering why *I* am having my photo taken when clearly *she* is the one who won.

Then there were the people who stayed on the race course long after the fast runners, medium runners, and slow runners went by to cheer on the stragglers. I got a little teary around mile four when I ran past, among others, a guy emphatically clapping for me on his porch. People are nice.

I also learned that if you are one of the laaaaaaast people across the finish line, everyone cheers really loud for you and your sticktoitiveness.

Support like that is even more awesome than 8-minute miles.

I mean, I assume. I wouldn’t know for sure. It’ll be a long time before I run an 8-minute mile.

An 8k is aaaaalllmost 5 miles and I ran it in about an hour and 12 minutes, which means I ran about fourteen-and-a-half minute miles, which sounds about right. The GPS on my phone thinks I ran farther and faster than I actually did, which makes me kind of love the GPS. I mean, it was awesome to hear in my headphones: “You have run one point zero miles at 13 minutes and four seconds per mile.” Once it got to five miles though, and I still had nearly a mile to go, I started to wonder about its accuracy.

There are many funky things going on in this phone screenshot.

Let’s start at the top.

(1) 5.71 miles? That would make me awesome, but I don’t think I zigzagged along the racecourse enough to add a whole three-quarters of a mile to the route. I might need to invest in a better, non-iPhone-app GPS.

(2) Run/Jog: At least it didn’t peg my speed as “walk,” but way to twist the knife a little, Map My Run, with that, “Well, you’re not reeealllly running, are you now, Stimey?” dig.

(3) Again with the 5.71 miles. Yes. I know. You think I’m awesome, but you don’t have to lie to me twice.

(4) I started and stopped the app a little on the outside of my run, which added the extra time, but I DO appreciate the little gold trophy. Maybe they gave it to me because I ran so many damn miles. (5.71 of them.)

(5) A Burt’s Bees Facebook contest?! I should click that!

I had to scroll down and take a different screenshot for my next set of stats.

I know you’re bored. But if you let me get it all out today, then I won’t talk about it for the next six months.

I’m not sure at what point I was running nearly 18 miles an hour, but good for me! I think my 3:22 min/mi pace might put me in some record books too. Either I’m not smart enough to understand these stats, or I actually won the race and the reason I was running by myself was because I was so goddamned fast.

I’m going to go with the latter.

Frankly, even a 13 minute mile is pretty outlandish for me.

Okay. So thems the basics. Some other stuff happened too. Let’s see. Here are some of them:

• When I got a text from Alex 15 minutes before the race was too start I was all, “Awwww, he’s texting to wish me good luck!” But he was really texting me to find out if I knew the wifi password at the hockey rink. I eventually forgave him, but only because he toted the children around all morning and then rubbed my back later.

• When that racewalker passed me at the half-mile mark and I never saw her again, I started to realize that I run just about as fast as most people walk. In fact, my race friends (although I don’t think they knew that’s who they were) were two women, one who stayed mostly ahead of me and one who stayed mostly behind me, who were walk/running the race and stayed at just about the same pace as my steady shuffle.

• There was a short stretch of road near the midpoint turnaround where I actually saw other runners because we were running on the same road. I was excited to get to the turnaround and see how many people were behind me. Yes, a million people passed me and a million people started and stayed in front of me, but I was sure that I couldn’t possibly be the slowest runner to have registered for the race. I was right. There were…several racers behind me. Like, at least 10—as well as the truck that picks up collapsed runners and cones to reopen the streets. I felt a little bit like that truck was a vulture circling around me.

• Also, can we talk about water stations for a minute? I run with a water bottle, because it helps me to run, but I got a cup of water at both water stations because I don’t pass up anything that is free. My question is, can someone tell me how you’re supposed to drink from a cup when you’re running? Even if you’re running slowly? At the first table, I took the water and promptly spilled it all over myself. Then I tossed my cup on the ground with all the other cups and felt like a criminal for littering. I think throwing cups on the ground was the hardest part of my race. The only time I walked was at the second water station, when it took me about ten feet to drink my water. And then, because it was so late in the race, there was already a lady sweeping up the cups. So I had to basically throw my cup AT her, which made me feel not just like a criminal, but an asshole criminal.

• I am super awesome. I ran an 8k.

You just wait until next year, Kensington 8k. I’m coming for you. And next time, I’m going to be one of the first 600 people to finish.

*****

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Stimeyland

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Category Archives: running

Project Stimey Update: Discouraged But Optimistic

Since You’re So Good at Giving Advice

Faster than a Turtle; Slower than Everyone Else

I Have Several Things To Tell You…

How to Make a Life Size Two-Dimensional Beaver*

Undead

The Turtle

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