Well.

As Eli pointed out, my perfect marathon record is actually still intact. It's like when Dixon started the other night in the Steelers/Ravens game with the higest (100%) completion record of any NFL quarterback. (It's not really anything like that, but did you watch that game? Pretty easy to be a statistician when QB3 plays.)

No but seriously, I failed. With gusto. There has been flu and excessive blood loss out of my face, which I lied about having under control. Then two nights before Seattle (Friday) when I was in Davis there was the worst... food poisoning(?)(??) I've ever had in my entire life, ever. It's now Tuesday afternoon and I'm still yelling at my shoes if I recklessly adventure beyond water. My insides are just straight Battle of Borodino up in here.

In conclusion, bullshit. I was really excited about the half marathon and more excited about getting to do all of this with Christian and Egge. It takes a real jerkoff to miss out on Four Lokos and pals that I rarely get to see anymore. Christian was nice enough to pick up my race number/shirt, which will forever commemorate my total inability to accomplish anything. And I've been so busy feeling miserable that I didn't even call in time to wish them luck. Double bullshit. GUYS: I'm still going to visit Seattle, hopefully soon. If you want to chase me for 13.1 miles or something, like in a car with a megaphone, I would be okay with that. Just spitballing here.

Anyways, where does that leave Pasadena? I am now going to fucking live for that marathon. Fingers crossed I'll be able to start running again, even if it's a whole lot less than I had been before this mess, in the next week. Spike will be in LA over my sister's winter break and "excuses" hold no water with her, so I'm counting on being back to my previous running schedule by Christmas. There will also be more running outdoors, more hills, graduating to the Mt.Wilson Toll Road, and boxing four times a week. Straighten your pantyhose, ladies. I've got a lot to make up for and a 3hour goal to meet.

Nothing's Free In Waterworld

In other news, all running has been suspended indefinitely on account of: turncoats. Certain organ systems would apparently love to lose the War of 1812 for the republican democracy and/or fuck with the Seattle Half Marathon, in that order. ("I have come here to prop up British Monarchy and ruin your goals... and I'm all out of British Monarchy.")

And so, tomorrow, I go back to the doctor. The doctor.

3rd And Long

How it is already the three week countdown I don't know, but them's the breaks.

1. Last week's mile count was +/-70, with the margin of error being mind your own beeswax
2. I got a new sports bra that I would like to award four out of a possible five goddamnits. Don't get me wrong, it straps that shit down like I'm on a shuttle launch at Cape Canaveral, but it also has a deceptively low front that may push PG-13. I mean really, why would that ever be necessary? Fuck you, Title IX (which is undoubtedly responsible for this).
3. Attitude: improved. Running? Not so much.

Tomorrow it's back to hill sprints, which are really more like hill shuffles, or hill Russian bear on ice skates. I'm pretty resolved to my performance in Seattle being the equivalent of that biplane crashing into a barn, only on loop for 13.1 miles. The best I can hope for is that it'll give me a better idea what I need to do for Pasadena (eg "work harder"). Other bonuses include Thanksgiving in Davis and terrible malt liquor after the race to dull any physical/emotional pain.

*NOT YELLING JUST LOVE CAPS*

Today I am so tired of running that if it weren't for the high stakes of Seattle I would quit that shit twice. I spent a good 200 minutes this afternoon trying to sweat out my bad attitude and it just made more room for a worse one. Getting back on official schedule tomorrow, mile totals will now be posted on Sundays just because. Also because it makes more sense.