Yesterday I got a sweet new pair of fancy wool socks that all the real runners swear by. I don't really know why they're so amazing and coveted. All I know is that they cost $17 which is ridiculously outrageous and that I wore them today and my feet have never felt more dry and sweat free after a run.
Today we ran 6 miles and as usual, about 4.5 of the 6 miles consisted of my brain telling me that this is stupid and to stop running. I got really tired at some points and there were a bunch of hills/inclines that really threw off my mental game. One mile I'm loving life and the next I'm kind of hating it. And then I tell myself I can do it and then I ask myself can I really? Sometimes this makes me wonder if I am just secretly schizophrenic or bipolar when I run.
|Six schizophrenic miles for the books|
Now I'm riding my runner's high and am ready to tackle the day. Starting with the biggest bowl of cereal ever and a cold glass of chocolate milk
|The frozen corn is for my knee. I don't eat corn for breakfast.|