In other news:
Last night hills were on the menu. I ran the 1.75-ish miles to where the hill starts. I was really really sure—as in positive— that this particular hill, at the base of Mass. Ave. and Little Falls Road, was 1/2 mile. Bex said to run it at a 10:20 pace. And what Bex wants, Bex gets.
So even I can do that math! The hill is 1/2 mile. Hence, my goal time was 5:10. My goal was to do five repeats. I left work around 7:00 p.m., trotted down to the hill, and the fun began. I ran my little fanny off. Up once, down once, blah blah, etc. This time I didn't stop between each repeat because, let's just get the job done, OK? No foolin' around.
I let myself stop for a quick drink after the second repeat, then while running up that hill for the fourth mind-numbing time, the bargaining started.
It's been at least three weeks since your last hill workout, and you did four then, so you should stay at four. Five is pushing it.
Then Bex was suddenly whispering in my ear:
It's SUPPOSED to be hard, dummy!
SO up I went for number five.
(God I'm good.)
hill 1: 4:56
hill 2: 5:04
hill 3: 5:09
hill 4: 5:02
hill 5: 5:17
Oh boy was I feeling proud! I half-jogged/walked the way back to work, taking my good sweet time. By then it was dark.
At work, I just had to re-measure that hill. Because I never believe that I can actually do anything hard even remotely fast.
So at 9 p.m., I sat at my desk at work, dripping sweat, and measured. Over and over. Because, no, it's not 1/2 mile. It's .459 miles.
I should leave well enough alone.
On the other hand, eh, close enough.
In other, other news:
I officially start my vacation today. To kick it off, I'll be having this, and this done today. In about an hour.
And the rest of my vacation? I will spend at home, helping Number One Daughter get ready to go to Spain on August 30. Seven days from now. Spain. Across that giant ocean. Where she spends three weeks in orientation, learning Spanish, and then moves in with a Spanish family. Until December.
She's a lucky girl, and I'm a nervous mommy.