My birthday was on Saturday, a fact that had me pondering life and death and my rapid descent into middle age. It was a lovely day, full of sunshine and laughter and good tequila and an AMAZING pinata and yes, cupcakes. Howsomever, the week leading up to it I was a little grumptastic and introspective and shit because honestly, I was a little disappointed in myself leading up[ to this birthday. I’m three years away from turning 40 and I thought I would have my shit more together than I do.

I still don’t have a career plan. I mean, I have a fantastic job and a shiny MBA and a pretty sweet commute, paycheck and work schedule. I also have no idea where I want to be in five years. I should know that, right? I should have goals and A PLAN and such. Instead I just have awesome coworkers, time to occasionally pay Angry Birds during my workday, and my fingers crossed that some of this stock I hold will make me some serious dollars.

Speaking of serious dollars, don’t ask me about my retirement plan. My current retirement plan is to die young. (Did I mention my hopes and dreams for a big stock payout?)

We don’t have a mortgage, which is good because we have way more credit card debt than we should. Aw fuck it, our credit cards have taken the place of a mortgage for us. On the one hand, YAY because we have absolutely no desire to own property ever (GASP!) but on the other hand UGH, credit card debt WTF man.

I’m forty pounds heavier than I want to be right now, forty pounds heavier than I was two years ago. In the words of my old coworker Grandpa Jack, this is UNSAT. Yeah, yeah, I’m still eighty pounds below where I was five years ago, but…UNSAT.

I spend a lot of time watching TV. And reading trashy books. And playing Bejeweled Blitz and Angry Birds and other mindless claptrap. Time that could be spent knitting or cleaning or writing or taking pictures or gardening or riding a bike or baking or the local senior center. My laziness knows no bounds.

I eat Kraft mac and cheese cups at 11pm at night and then wonder why I get heartburn. Sometimes, all I have for dinner is strawberries and cheese.

In other words, I am a mess. I am 37 and my life looks nothing like that of a Responsible Adult’s most of the time. So I guess that means I am NOT a Responsible Adult? And maybe that is why I was so “Wah, wah (sad trombone)” about this birthday.

I vented about this whole “OMG I AM SO LAME!” feeling I’ve been having, and she told me I’m an idiot. I guess maybe we’re both right. I do have a stable marriage and a good job and four wee beasties that I’ve managed to keep healthy (two of them into old age), an apartment in a good neighborhood that is usually ready for visitors to drop in and good wine in my wine rack. I guess that balances all the rest of my bullshit out for the time being.

I just better have some of this shit straightened out before I turn 40 or I’m going to need a lot more than this white wine spritzer.

• Being told I don’t have a right to discuss to things related to children (in this case, education and public schools) because I don’t HAVE children. Fuck that noise. I may not have kids but I do have a degree in psychology with an emphasis on kids, a year of master’s level early childhood education classes, student teaching experience and oh yeah, 5 years of mentoring a school age child. SO fuck you for saying I don’t have a single clue what I’m talking about when I give an opinion on schools and what to look for. It’s ignorant and disrespectful of my intelligence to say I know nothing about children’s issues just because I don’t have a tiny human of my own. Do I know what it’s like to be a parent? No. But that is a TOTALLY DIFFERENT THING. So shut up.
• People not following through on their obligations. Look, I procrastinate with the best of them. I totally owe one of my friends some notes on things he wrote and I have slacked and not done it and I AM SORRY BRYAN I SWEAR I’LL DO IT SOON. But when it comes to things that are business related or that have hard deadlines and people counting on me to do my part, I follow through. If you commit to something, just fucking do it. If something happens to prevent you from just fucking doing it, then have the courtesy (and the bravery!) to own up to it and say “I’m sorry, I cannot meet this obligation, you need to find someone else to do this/I need help or an extension,” etc and so forth. Ignoring the deadline and the people counting on you never works, and your coworkers will HATE YOU FOREVER for doing this. And you do not want coworkers who hate you.
• Administrative Professionals Day. No, I’m not pissed that it exists. I’m not pissed that I didn’t get anything (because my management team gave me a very nice orchid, a card and a gift card). I’m pissed because everyone and their fucking coworker has decided that THEY should be recognized on that day. Just because you report to someone or are not a manager does not mean that you are an administrative professional. Receptionists. Office managers. File clerks. Administrative and executive assistants. And yes, secretaries. The people who book the travel, order the office supplies, plan the meetings, answer the phones and the door, know how to unjam the copiers and printers, take the meeting notes and send the emails reminding employees to do that thing that they are supposed to do. THOSE are the administrative professionals being honored. The people who are the information hubs, the den mothers and company counselors, the ones you go to when you need a stamp or someone to fix this weird thing in your Word document. If you’re not one of those people, step off. We hardly get any recognition as it is and we shouldn’t have to share the spotlight.
• My gotdamn cats. They are adorable and sweet and loving EXCEPT WHEN THEY ARE NOT. I swear to bog, if Riley doesn’t calm the fuck down and stop harassing all the other animals in the house I’m going to start tranquilizing him. Okay not really but OMG. He’s the Andy Rooney of cats, always stomping around complaining (SO LOUDLY) about things. And when he’s not doing that, he’s stalking Abbie or scaring Sophie or jumping all over Vivi. Stupid little snookums.
• The weather. WHY IS IT RAINING AGAIN???
• People who cannot see that I am having a bad day and insist on being HIGH MAINTENANCE and DEMANDING even though they are not even an employee, they are a consultant. Which means that sorry, you have to have SOME self sufficiency. FTE’s get priority when it comes to hand holding. And also, good job getting yourself put On The List your first day with us. GOSH.
• John McCain.
• Mitt Romney
• All the other people who think it’s a good idea to defund Planned Parenthood.
• In fact, every politician out there.
• Me, because OMG THE WHINING. UGH.

The end.

That half-marathon was an eye opener for me. It made me realize that I am not cut out for doing just one thing over and over and over. I mean, I love being able to say “Yeah bitches, 13.1 miles WHATTA WHAT!” but on the other hand: dude, I’ve been in physical therapy since the end of March because of the damn bursitis that race gave my hip. So I decided to go back to the exercise program that never bored me and never injured me but always, ALWAYS exhausted me.

I started Crossfitting again.

This is the kind of shit I’m doing these days. Minimum of three times a week, preferably four to five times a week.  It’s insane and it’s exhausting and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I sweat so much that it drips into my eyes and I am left gasping for breath. I am doing ACTUAL PUSHUPS, you guys! I’m doing them badly and slowly but I am doing them! And I am lifting heavy things and squatting a zillion times and trying oh so hard to do just one pull up.

When I showed up at Crossfit Sun for my intro, my coach Chung asked me what I wanted out of this. And I said “I just want to feel better. And stronger. I feel like crap these days.” My friend Leslie asked me how much weight I wanted to lose and I said “I don’t care if I lose weight, but I do want to get smaller.” I want to be strong. I want to hike without getting winded, I want to run without things hurting, I want to have muscles in places I didn’t know they could exist.  I want to do a pull up. I want to deadlift more than my current personal high of 135lbs. I want to do 10 perfect push ups in a row without stopping.

Here’s how you know I’m serious: I do not drink the night before a workout. No wine except on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. My alarm is set for 5:16 in the AM more often than not. I think about my protein intake and my form when I do hang squat snatches and carry a lacrosse ball in my purse fo massaging out kinks and drink an awfully large amount of water. I am lucky (so very, very lucky) to have found one of the awesome Crossfit boxes. There are people there of all all shapes and sizes and ages and fitness levels and they treat us all the same, scaling workouts to fit our particular issues and weirdnesses. The owners and coaches are all certified in a number of different areas and if I don’t have good form on a lift, I don’t get to use actual weight. I told Chung about my bad hip and he pulled me from running and threw me on the rowing machine instead. The people I work out with high five me when I do something like 121 wall balls, and we have a whole charity thing going on where we raise money for each other’s favorite causes (or members who need a boost because of unexpected drama).

Crossfit is so divisive; people love it or they hate it. When I say “I Crossfit” I get one of two reactions: “Wow, that’s crazy intense! Good for you!” or “People hurt themselves really bad doing Crossfit! AND DIE! AND HURT THEMSELVES!” I pretty much react the exact same way to both reactions: a small smile, an unintelligible “Mmmhmmmunahamanah”. I have no need to convince other people to do this with me, I don’t need to convince them that this is the right thing for you or for them or for their mamas. All that matters is that this shit works for me like WHOA.

Also: holy fucking crap, my biceps are getting hardass. And also, I can now literally carry my friends on an on call basis. See? Jane looks not at all worried about me dropping her! (Thanks for the picture, Lisa-Marie!!)

So yeah, that’s The Thing I’m Doing these days, and it is exhausting and I am getting awesome strong and excuse me, I need to go do a Ten Minute Squat to stretch out my hip flexors, WHATTA WHAT.

“Very little!” I replied. She laughed and did that “Oh, you!” arm pat that 70ish ladies do, obviously thinking I was just being coy until I followed it up with “No, really! I just have really good genes!”

And then she told me she hated me just a little, but she was chuckling when she said it so I knew she didn’t really.

But it got me to thinking about beauty routine, because she’s not the first woman to act so disbelieving when I shared my “secrets” with her. So look, here’s a peek behind the curtain to prove that really! It’s my mother and my grandmother and my great-grandmother and their fantastic genes that are responsible for this skin because I hardly do anything to it!

Okay so here’s me, sans makeup or moisturizer or good lighting. Fresh out of the shower, haven’t done my hair, still not entirely awake:

I have two groups of products that get used every single day: the Upkeep Products and the Prettifying Products. Here’s the Upkeep Products:

Left to right:

Yes to Blueberries Eye Firming Treatment (hat tip to Wendy Bix for that product referral) for keeping the laugh lines at bay for a few more years

Philosophy Hope In A Jar Oil Free SPF 30 to keep my skin moisturized, non-greasy and also, protected from skin cancer

Neutrogena Oil-Free Makeup Remover to take off the old makeup before washing my face (I am terrible and never take it off at night. TERRIBLE.)

Oh, and my perfume, which is not an Upkeep Product (except it does keep me from stinking so maybe it counts as Upkeep?)

And that’s it! That’s all I do every day, much to the chagrin of aestheticians everywhere. These days I also drink a shit ton of water and take a lot of vitamins and exercise a lot and sleep more so that’s also helping things stay clear and healthy.

Okay, and here’s the Prettifying Products. This is everything I use on a daily basis.

Left to right:

My Shisheido Eyelash Curler, which you will pry from my cold dead hands. It’s even better than the Shu Uemura I used for years.

Sephora Eyebrow Brush, for application of powder and setting wax

Smashbox Eyebrow Tech in Taupe/Soft Brown, my very favorite way to set my eyebrows. Two colors of powder for filling and defining and wax to set everything in place for the day.

Physicians’ Formula Yellow Undereye Concealer: The secret weapon of fair skinned people to conquer chronic undereye circles.

Maybelline Unstoppable Eyeliner in Black. Classic!

CoverGirl Lash Fusion Mascara, Waterproof and Very Black. I switch mascara a lot, but waterproof and black are a constant.

My broken eyebrow brush that I use to groom them before powder/wax application. Need to replace that!

And this is what all those products do for me every morning in about 15 minutes:

So yeah, I baby my skin and put hardly anything on it ever because that’s what worked for my mom and her mom and her mom before that. I break out the mineral powder foundation on special occasions and slap some concealer onto the pimples that insist on appearing even though I AM ALMOST 37 DAMMIT WHY DO I STILL HAVE ACNE. Ahem.

Anyway, here is my theory on skin care: leave it alone as much as possible, moisturize, wear sunscreen, and if you get professional help with it, make sure it’s someone awesome with a zillion references. And also, asking me what I use is basically worthless because I really, truly don’t have any secret formula other than my DNA.

Remember last year when IGIGI gave us pretty dresses to wear at Weetacon and then review them? And it was so much fun and people got gift certificates and in general, it was awesome? Well, they stepped up again this year and asked the Weetacon ladies to test out and review parts of their spring line.

And that is how I ended up getting to wear one of the dresses I had seen and right away thought I needed in my work wardrobe IMMEDIATELY: the Cheryl Color Block dress. I am a sucker for anything that screams classic or vintage that I can wear season after season, and the Cheryl is one of those pieces. It’s a true wrap dress a la DVF, which is a silhouette that I swear is universally flattering. I already owned another one of IGIGI’s wrap dresses, a gorgeous swirly thing of emerald green jersey with interesting tucks and gathers along the neckline. The Cheryl is a bit more business like, with a simple straight neckline.

As you can see, it’s a little low cut if you’re not careful when you put it on; wrap dresses always need a little tweaking to make sure all the parts sit correctly so if you don’t have patience for a little fiddling this might not be the dress for you. The length is just right for me at 5’6″, as all of my IGIGI dresses have been. (I just counted and right now there are ten IGIGI dresses in my closet. Um…yeah, I like them.) (A lot.) That said, once again I felt like I was putting on a dress that had been custom tailored for me. Seriously, I swear they have a fit model built just like me because every dress I own from IGIGI fits like that. I mean come on, look at this:

Here’s me in the Hiroko (which is on sale, by the way!!)….

And also, the new Vintage Floral dress (which I love SO VERY MUCH!)….

Anyway, back to the Cheryl. It’s a perfect work dress when it’s adjusted just right, but it is totally perfect for days when I have an evening engagement right after work. Shift it to a little more low cut, add a little more make up and long sparkly earrings and voila! Date night prettiness! The best part about dresses is that one dress can be ten different outfits….switch the shoes from pumps to sandals, wear pearls instead of sparkles, toss on a little shrug or wear some tights and boots and one dress can be an entire wardrobe. The Cheryl is going to be perfect for my spring/summer wardrobe with my favorite t-strap wedges and a giant black pendant. This winter I think it’s going to be great with big hoop earrings, a black pashimina around my neck and some knee high boots. In other words, LOVE IT.

I had a friend tell me once that IGIGI stuff is too expensive for her budget, and yeah, it’s not cheap. HOWEVER: the ROI on one of these dresses is amazing. They are timeless pieces that you can wear over and over, year after year. I seriously wear each of mine an average of twice a month, and because I’m too lazy to hand wash them (as many of them can be) I dry clean them. They all look as good as new now, even the ones I got a year ago at Weetacon 7. These dresses are definitely high end, and that is how they make you look and feel. Every time I wear one to an event or to work I end up with a bucket of compliments by the end of the day.

And now here is the awesomesauce part of the review: Want a chance to shop at Igigi on us? Just go to the Igigi website, pick out the garment you’d love to have for your very own and leave a comment here on this post, telling me exactly how you’d accessorize your new Igigi fashion and where you plan to wear it. One lucky commenter will receive a free $50 gift certificate. But wait, that’s not all. Each of our Weetacon Igigi reviewers will be giving away a $50 gift certificate to Igigi, so you can enter by leaving one comment on each of those reviews too. Yes, you read this right: Weetacon and Igigi are giving away over $1000 in Igigi by Yuliya Raquel gift certificates! The only catch is that you must enter by May 15 and you can only enter once per review. Winners will be announced on the Weetacon Igigi review page by May 18th.

Happy shopping!!

Standard Disclaimer: The Cheryl Color Block dress in this entry was provided to me for review purposes by Igigi. The content of this entry was not dictated by Igigi and these opinions are completely my own but I did get to keep the dress for my personal use.

For Q1, my goals were “File Taxes” (done, and I won’t even tell you how simple our taxes are to do because you might very well hate me), “Finish budget for 2012″ (done, and woo, we can afford our ten zillion vacations this year!), “Scarves for Weetacon” (did 1, and it was gorgeous!), “check out CrossFit Sun” (done, signed up, drank the Kool-Aid, lifting things up and putting them down and doing things like ACTUAL PUSH UPS on a regular basis), “Weetacon stuff” (done, and oh that sounds so deceptively simple! I just didn’t want to list everything out because I was too lazy and also, skeered). Undone: Reading and commenting on a friend’s spec scripts, cleaning out and reorganizing my kitchen, cleaning out and reorganizing my closet. I’ma call that a win, because DID I MENTION I RAN A HALF MARATHON IN JANUARY?Oh, I didn’t because I haven’t updated in MONTHS. (HA HA: Under “Ongoing” I have written “Blog entries on a regular basis”). Anyway, I ran the half marathon in 3 hours, 26 minutes. And I totally cried when I finished, partly because I totally had an injured hip which I am right now totally going to physical therapy for. Bursitis is no joke, yo. So I let the hip rest for a month, then I started doing CrossFit and now I am trying not to me too obnoxious about how much I love it. Literally the only thing that still makes my hip ache is running though; squats and rowing and step ups are no problem! So I figure I’ll be fine by May so I’ll be running a trail run on my birthday (WHAT THE….) and then running across the Coronado Bay Bridge a couple weeks after that.

In other news, Weetacon 8 happened a couple weeks ago and I am not kidding when I say it was magical and awesome and so full of bitchy sweetness that it took me this long to be able to watch the photobooth video that Wendy put together without tearing up a little. I am so proud to call that group of people my friends, because they are smart and funny and sing karaoke like the badasses they are. And also, they all keep on loving me despite myself. If anyone reading this has considered going but then chickened out, next year you really should be BRAVE and come meet us because we are a shit ton of fun, I tell you what.

Let’s see, Q1, what else? Oh yeah, I got a promotion! And a raise! And a bonus! And honestly, the money was nice (since the bonus bought us airplane tickets to JAPAN, MOTHERFUCKERS) but the promotion was the really good part. Operations Manager! Go me! (I’m still also the EA for the executive team but that’s to be expected at a company of 30 people). And also, I have a minion, which I probably mentioned before. All of which means that for the first time in fifteen years, the only expense reports I do now are my own. Goddamn expense reports. Bane of my existence.

And now, here is a picture of my dog, because she is cute. And also, a remote control thief.

Now granted, the one chick on the show is engaged so to her it’s like…the world is in that ring and if she takes it off then the world will END. She was absolutely shocked that one of her cohosts takes his ring off as soon as he gets home every night.

Right about then was when my eyes starting rolling around in my head spasmodically so I changed the channel because I didn’t want to crash my car. But come on, people. A ring is just a ring. Taking it off or hell, not wearing one at all does not make one suddenly be UnMarried. For crying out loud, my “wedding ring” that I’m wearing right now is the third or fourth version I’ve worn, and my original band gets worn on the middle finger of my right hand now since it’s too big and I don’t want to size it down because that would mess up the engraving.

But I walk around without my ring on all the time. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to go workout and lift dumbbells and do pull ups and shit with my ring on, because what if I drop a weight on my hand? Also, rings mess with my grip and that’s just annoying. Kevin takes his off every morning when he’s doing his hair since he doesn’t want to get hair gel all over it. Maybe Jessica Biel just wanted to go out without being paranoid about losing the big giant stone in the ring. Or maybe she was making meatloaf and decided to take it off so it wouldn’t get dirty and forgot to put it back on. Sheesh.

Yeah. Well. Now it’s more like “I like running, if it’s not too hot, and I got enough sleep, and my legs don’t hurt and also, I don’t run more than 6 miles anymore okay?” because it turns out that running long distances does not agree with my legs. Seriously, I ended up with these crazy ass shin splints that hurt all the damn time and I hated running with every fiber of my being. So I stopped running for a couple weeks and my legs stopped hurting and then I liked it again.

Which is good, because yo, I’m “running” a half marathon on Sunday. Emphasis on those quotes there, because I am still super duper slow. I mean, I can run a whole mile without stopping in like 13 minutes which is AWESOME, but I can’t run 13.1 of them. So I’ll be doing the Galloway/interval thing, running 3 minutes and then walking for 1. And when I’m done with that half marathon, I will never again run another double digit run ever again amen.

I have very, very modest goals for this race. Finish in less than 3 1/2 hours. Average a sub 15 minute mile. Don’t get hurt. Don’t be last. Don’t cry. Get that goddamn medal around my neck. Honestly, the only things keeping me from NOT doing the half on Sunday are the medal and the fact that I have spent a ton of freaking money on shoes and gear and registration and training group stuff and I need to see a return on my investment.

It won’t be the last time I run a race; I am one third of the way to my goal of running an entire 5K so I’ll keep doing those. And 10K seems to be my just right long distance so I’ll do a few more of those. But those half and full marathons? I am not enough woman for those, and kudos to people who are.

But hey, on the good side, all this running has made me realize one thing: I fucking miss the hell out of Crossfit. So I’m going to get back into THAT next month. Jumping out of one crazy into another. Yep, that’s me.

So yeah, this may very well be the year when Kevin and I become “those people”, the ones who leave their Christmas lights up all year round. Hell, the tree is a tiny pink one that will be easy enough to redecorate with each passing season. Hearts for Valentine’s Day! Shamrocks! Easter Eggs! Etc and so forth!

Oh god, just the thought of that is making me itch. That shit is coming down this week if it kills me.

In other news, I am supposed to be writing my performance review right now, instead of writing this entry. It was actually due last Friday so I guess I’m already going to be dinged 5 points or something for that but hey, you pull me out of the office to sit and take notes for you for 4 days, you get my review from me late. On the good side, they (I) actually revamped the evaluation form this year so it’s not a worthless piece of crap. Our old version basically made employees justify themselves and their jobs and encouraged supervisors to be hypercritical of their employees. Oh, and there was absolutely no measurement of goal completion or even a MENTION of goals. Basically, it was the exact opposite of everything my Compensation professor said a good review form looked like.

I am supposedly being put up for a promotion since my current title doesn’t really convey my current position as well as it could. And also, Office Manager/IT/Facilities/Project Coordinator/Contracts Administrator/Webmaster doesn’t fit on my business cards AT ALL. We’ll see how that goes.

I like seeing the runners and joggers. Some of them are graceful and gazelleish in their running shorts; they are beautiful to watch, and I am always jealous of how easily they run. But others of them are like me: middle aged, a little pudgy, a little jiggly, not fast, but stubborn. Stubborn, and out there running.

I started running for reals in July, because in June my friend asked me if I wanted to run a half marathon with her in January. Before, I had done a few 5K runs that involved more walking than running, things I didn’t train for and attacked without any strategy or training. But a half marathon is Serious Stuff, so I signed up with a training group and told everyone I was doing it and then I registered because if I already paid for it, I’m more likely to do it. And then I started running.

And oh my lord it sucked at first. It hurt and I couldn’t breathe and I thought my head might explode. But it was exactly what I needed when I started up at the end of July, because I was not fit for group exercise since I was still angry and sorrowful and by and large just had no patience for people. But running was something I could do all by myself. It’s me versus me.

And then I figured out that running doesn’t have to hurt, that there are methods other than going out there and running until I pass the fuck out. I decided to start trying out the interval method and found out that when I do 4 minute run/1 minute walk intervals I can run a lot farther than I thought I could.

I did 4 miles, 5 miles, 6 miles. I hurt my leg and researched ways to get back out on the road as soon as possible. And then I went out and ran 7 miles and it sucked. So I ran 7 miles again and it sucked less. And last week, I ran 8 miles in less than two hours and afterwards I felt fanfuckingtastic. I was sore but nothing hurt in a bad way. I’m still not fast by any means but I am faster than I thought I could ever be.

I am a runner. I have worn out a pair of running shoes (but that’s okay because I have 3 more pairs of my favorite Brooks shoe in reserve). My Garmin is pretty much my favorite thing ever. I am constantly on the lookout for sales on my favorite sports bra. I wear special double layer socks that cost more than any socks should cost. I eat weird electrolyte-laden gummy things while I run.

And oh, I look funny. I look so hilarious, you guys. I am sweaty and red and gaspy and jiggly. My hydration belt (look, it’s a fancy fanny pack with a water bottle attached) goes around my waist in the exact spot that makes my belly look even poochier than usual. My running pants show off every lumpy part of my ass. This picture right here? Totally sums it up:

And yet, somehow I have gotten past caring about what I look like. Friends keep asking me “why the heck are you doing this?”

Well, here’s why: I run because my husband’s ex-girlfriend dropped dead of sudden heart failure at the age of 32.  I run because I love having super high HDL counts on my cholesterol tests and exercise helps raise them. I run because Jackie’s dead and she’ll never run again. I run because my mom has a hard time even walking through a store because of her pain issues. I run because at one point I couldn’t even WALK a mile without wanting to pass out. I run because I am so, so jealous of those people who have been running their whole lives and have perfect strides. I run because I can, and I don’t want to forget how powerful and miraculous it is that I can go out there and do this thing that I never used to be able to do.

When I am out there and things are working right and nothing hurts and the rhythm of my feet on the sidewalk matches the rhythm of the music I am listening too, I lose my vanity. I don’t care who sees me with a red, sweaty face. I don’t care that oh my god, I kind of stink. I don’t care that yes, my gut is hanging out and my butt is bouncing like WHOA and I am the funniest thing you’ve seen all day. All I care about is beating my time from yesterday, and running just a little bit further than last time. Running is hard and sometimes it’s painful and sometimes it sucks SO BAD.

And I think I’m falling in love with it.