welcome to Maine! fuck you!
Seriously, Mother Nature. You suck. Or in the words of my 9 year old son this morning, "Mother Nature is a butthole".
Yes. Yes she is.
Anyway, despite the craptastic weather that we've been having, I seem to be able to still rack up the running miles.
Which included 4 long runs of 16, 14, 20 and 17 miles. Just one month ago the longest run I had ever done was a half marathon. Now, a half marathon seems like an "easy" day. Go figure.
20 miles sucked and was ugly and took me close to 3:30 to finish so I have no idea how I think I might finish a full marathon in 4 hours, but you never know.
me hating all things running
Boothbay Harbor is the land of all the hills so a flat course might be in my favor. With my luck it will likely rain like hell or be sunny and 80*. Either way, I'm sure to die, vomit, curse, dehydrate, chafe and slog to a +4:00 finish. On Mother's Day. Cause what else would I want to do on Mother's Day?
So enough of all this mileage shit and marathon talk. Let's get down to the real reason you are reading this blog. Unless you care about me and running, the reason you are here is to find out what the heck I'm doing talking about beavers. And you likely have your mind in the gutter. And you'd likely to be right on with that thinking.
Read on folks.....
So on Monday evenings for the past month or so, I've been running a field hockey clinic at the Y with the varsity coach for younger girls. This Monday was the same. I came home from work, put on my running gear (in which I go commando,,, this is important. remember for later.....) and headed to the Y to get a couple of miles in on the track before field hockey at 6:30. Fine. Ran my 2 miles, did the field hockey clinic in which I played some 2 on 2 with the girls, then came home.
Dinner was ready when I got home so we started eating. I happen to eat standing up at the counter and my husband says to me--what's on the front of your pants? I look down and much to my horror (and everyone else who's eating dinner at the time) the seam of my running capris are split from the band at the waist all the way down to the crotch. My entire crotch/bush/beaver/hoo-hoo whatever you want to call it was completely hanging out for all to see.
I did not tear this further, this was the actual hole in my pants.....
How does one's pants split open completely in the front and you don't even notice???!!! How long did I walk around flashing everyone at the Y? And worst of all, how come no one told me??
Ummm, excuse me coach? I think your hoo-hoo is sticking out.
Omg I can't even imagine that conversation.
Seriously. It's a wonder they let me volunteer. Or maybe that's why they let me volunteer......
I guess I'm going to have to re-think the commando thing.....
Anyway, that's what happening in my end of the world. No spring, snow again, more miles and beaver sightings. Good stuff. And my running friends, they are so supportive.....