You know that "runner's high" bullshit?
It fucking SUCKS!
I've been running (ha! unintentional pun, I swear) on two and a half hours of sleep.
I'm fucked up.
Oddly enough, I was amped for the race.
No matter how much I told myself to clock in as many hours of sleep as possible, I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, having gone to bed at 3AM.
Oh shit... did I even mention in here that I was running a 5K?
Well, I did. And I had zero preparation for it... at least nothing special for it, just my usual gym regiment... which is basically: Lift. Lift. Lift. Kickbox. Lift. Half hour of interval sprinting. Lift. Rest. Repeat.
Fuck cardio, dude. I just signed up because I wanted to accompany my breast-cancer-survivor friend.
Running + Me = FUCK THAT SHIT! You're kidding, right?
Well, apparently my body was stoked about this 5K, and I did that shit... but not before getting pissed the fuck off at one of our team members who showed up late. Lazy bitch.
So, I was irritated, and apparently that's the emotional state at which I'm most efficient, because I busted out my first-ever 5k in roughly 27 minutes.
But it didn't end there.
I was so... euphoric... or whatever... that I joined the "walking" portion of my team for their last mile and a half.
I think this "candy" waiting at the finish-line might have had something to do with it:
I proceeded to chit-chat with other runners downtown, ransacked the booths for free shit, bumped into friends who were volunteering at the booths, and took photos like some celebrity (this was more like me begrudgingly complying, because I really dislike photos... especially right now, after that episode last week).
I walked around for another two hours...
Then I came home.
I was so high on life, I went ahead and ran another three miles on the treadmill.
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON, body? What is this garbage?!
I had planned on knocking out once I got home... but I was too wired.
So I went ahead and went to church, hoping it would make me sleepy (I'm SO SORRY, Jesus). This failed because the priest made service the shortest he has ever done it.
As I restlessly made my way to my car, trying to figure out another form of tiring myself out, I felt it:
I felt the return of... my horrible shin splints.
FUCK YOU, body!
The pain right now is unbearable whenever I put pressure on my right leg. God had compassion and only fucked up that leg... at least as far as I know for now... still have to see how I wake up tomorrow.
I'm once again that stupid injured horse... limping my way around the house... spending most of my time on my belly, like some toddler.
Fucking runner's high...
Something I've failed to mention is that... I was a total Mexican-American today and ran this shit hungover as fuck.
I had the bright idea to drink the night prior... since this "I LOVE LIFE!" kick I'm currently on seems to also translate to "I'm fucking invincible!"
Who does that shit, man? Anomalie does.
More on yesterday's drinking later... once I chill out a bit.
Fuck running, man, seriously, fuck. that. shit.
It fucking SUCKS!
I've been running (ha! unintentional pun, I swear) on two and a half hours of sleep.
I'm fucked up.
Oddly enough, I was amped for the race.
No matter how much I told myself to clock in as many hours of sleep as possible, I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, having gone to bed at 3AM.
Oh shit... did I even mention in here that I was running a 5K?
Well, I did. And I had zero preparation for it... at least nothing special for it, just my usual gym regiment... which is basically: Lift. Lift. Lift. Kickbox. Lift. Half hour of interval sprinting. Lift. Rest. Repeat.
Fuck cardio, dude. I just signed up because I wanted to accompany my breast-cancer-survivor friend.
Running + Me = FUCK THAT SHIT! You're kidding, right?
Well, apparently my body was stoked about this 5K, and I did that shit... but not before getting pissed the fuck off at one of our team members who showed up late. Lazy bitch.
So, I was irritated, and apparently that's the emotional state at which I'm most efficient, because I busted out my first-ever 5k in roughly 27 minutes.
But it didn't end there.
I was so... euphoric... or whatever... that I joined the "walking" portion of my team for their last mile and a half.
I think this "candy" waiting at the finish-line might have had something to do with it:
 |
| Yeah, they're probably all gay, but that doesn't mean I can't stare. The dude on the left... mmm.... I caught myself staring at him with MY MOUTH OPEN a couple of times. How barbaric is that? Gosh. |
I walked around for another two hours...
Then I came home.
I was so high on life, I went ahead and ran another three miles on the treadmill.
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON, body? What is this garbage?!
I had planned on knocking out once I got home... but I was too wired.
So I went ahead and went to church, hoping it would make me sleepy (I'm SO SORRY, Jesus). This failed because the priest made service the shortest he has ever done it.
As I restlessly made my way to my car, trying to figure out another form of tiring myself out, I felt it:
I felt the return of... my horrible shin splints.
FUCK YOU, body!
The pain right now is unbearable whenever I put pressure on my right leg. God had compassion and only fucked up that leg... at least as far as I know for now... still have to see how I wake up tomorrow.
I'm once again that stupid injured horse... limping my way around the house... spending most of my time on my belly, like some toddler.
Fucking runner's high...
Something I've failed to mention is that... I was a total Mexican-American today and ran this shit hungover as fuck.
I had the bright idea to drink the night prior... since this "I LOVE LIFE!" kick I'm currently on seems to also translate to "I'm fucking invincible!"
Who does that shit, man? Anomalie does.
More on yesterday's drinking later... once I chill out a bit.
Fuck running, man, seriously, fuck. that. shit.
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