Jes' Fine, Ma'am

I had my stride analyzed this morning. I drove 45 minutes to The Health Club, where, in exchange for members of my local running club giving their phone numbers so that we can be hassled later on the phone to join, The Health Club let the running club conduct a stride clinic.

I signed up the minute it was announced since I always feel on the verge of an injury. My analysis was slated for 8 a.m., the first slot. I got there five minutes late, already very pissed off (read this, but not the dogs or the carpet part to get a good picture of my mood), after a long detour to the wrong place, because apparently, I do not read so good. We were "warned" in the confirmation letter to "be prepared to work out!" So i was ready! I ran a few times around the track (10.5 laps=1 mile, with mirrors, kill me now), then hopped on a treadmill.

A coach from the running club watched me for a few minutes, chatted about my 10K goal, told me my stride looked good, I ran relaxed, and I looked fine. Wha...? I chatted him up a bit so that I wouldn't have to kill him for having me drive 90 minutes to and fro to find out that my stride is fine. The entire thing took 10 minutes. He told me good shoes were important. No really. He said that. He was cute, so I let him escape with his life. And yes, I would have been happier if they found something wrong.

Later, that same day: Since I missed the running club's training run yesterday morning, due to a previous engagement, I wanted to make it up today. They did a practice run on the Incredibly Hilly 10K May 14 course. So I was mad about missing that. To make up for it, I had a donut for lunch. After having oatmeal for breakfast. At 6:30 a.m. Just so you understand how well I prepare.

I drove back out to do the Incredibly Hilly 10K by myself. With directions in hand. Which were incorrect. Grrrrr. After a phone call, I settled on an approximation of the race course. It was like 90 degrees F at this point, and I had all that Good Nutrition rolling around in me. I ran the Incredibly Hilly 10K course with legs like lead. This course has the added benefit of lots of twists and turns and other paths intersecting with it. To which I paid zero attention, I was too intent on getting to 3.2 miles. Didn't make it. Ran for 30 or so minutes, stopped, had a gu, drank (water), turned around and started back.

Here's a peek at my thoughts during this run: Was I supposed to take that left? Or that one? Or go straight? Should I turn around and take that left? I should, shouldn't I. No!! Don't!! You'll get hopelessly lost! You do know that you will never ever ever find your way back to the car, right? And you have no cell phone. Too heavy to carry, you thought. OK, that's it, you can't run anymore. Why not? Nothing really hurts. OK, walk for a minute. Why do you eat such crap? Please God not another hill. OK, this isn't as Incredibly Hilly as they said it was. You are almost done. Such a drama queen. Honest to God. How in the hell are they going to hold a race on a two lane bike path? Why did I sign up for this? This so sucks. No, it doesn't suck, it blows. We should have been training on this route for every single week of the past 10 weeks. Why oh why did we go other places to train? Why am I NOT IN CHARGE OF EVERYTHING??? Since I am of such obviously SUPERIOR intellect?

Like that.

But you know me. You know I always look for the positive in everything. So, forthwith, today's takeaways:
1. I ran, even though I did most assuredly not want to. (To Whomever is Keeping Score: Please note.)
2. I was mad at everyone. And I did not take it out on myself by curling into a ball and crying (though, there was the donut incident).
3. 21st C Mom literally pushed me out the door by replying to my whiney e-mails with tales of her prowess, once more proving the power of the RBF.
4. I need to eat in order to run, not run in order to eat. Rinse, repeat. Eat. Green things. Things that swim. Meals.
5. I persist. Even when I am mad and sad and worried. Surely, that is worth something.
6. That route is hilly, but it is not impossible.
7. My stride is just freakin' fine.