I’ve been wearing my Vibrams to work this week, since no one’s around. I feel sort of like a combo of weird loser/fringy-cool/barefoot runner. It’s strangely satisfying.
About ten minutes ago, I moved money from my savings to my checking and registered for the Savannah Rock ‘n Roll marathon. Though I had already mentally committed, this step made me physically shake. This is a huge step. It’s saying, “Yes, I am going to do this training that will surely kick my ass and make me cry.” I am fairly certain I will cry. The first week of training alone is 25 miles. I’m logging maybe 12 right now. And while I know that once I’m a few weeks in and notice my endurance building and six, seven, eight miles becoming increasingly easier and almost laughable – ha! – in the face of say, a long 18 miler, I am still really scared. Terrified.
We’re also considering a Tough Mudder, but it’s up in the air. I’d love to do it to see if I could. It’s one month out from the marathon so all I would need to do is train up on upper body strength. They don’t give you a medal though and that’s a huge detractor.
I am eight chapters into 50 Shades of Grey and after having read some arguments on Twitter about good and bad BDSM writing, I am worried this is going to disappoint me. I may have to suspend my disbelief for a bit to push through. I have read some authors who do a really fabulous job at writing the exchange of power and the trust that goes on in those types of relationships. Christian Grey? I’m not so sure he gets it.
Let’s say you’re planning a beach vacation. You find a really great B&B but it’s about a mile from the beach. You found some beachside hotels but they aren’t as nice and reviews are so-so. Do you opt for the farther walk to have a nicer stay or for the proximity to the beach and sac the comfort? Last year, we went to Daytona. The hotel was pretty cruddy but we were on the beach all the damn time. I’m conflicted!
And some other random memories I’ve been having: bike rides along the inter-coastal, gardenias in a bowl, Hamm’s beer, dragonflies so thick they overtook our backyard, slugs after a rain, blanket forts, the boys down the street who teased us yet still rode bikes down to the country club so we could get air off the hills.
Mt grandma is in a PT home after a recent fall. I’m getting oddly nostalgic for time spent in Palm Beach with my grandparents as a kid. I’m scared that one of these days I will have to go down there to speak at a funeral. But there’s so many other things on my plate right now. This is only one small portion. Later today: make Summer B weekly plans, write a letter of rec, grade final FSU student papers, and run 4 miles. And that’s all I can fit into my Thursday.