tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Thrills about here at Tobermory

I think Iím beginning to, dare I say it?, enjoy running. Last yearís running program was miserable. Megan and I used the CoolRunning siteís Couch Potato to 5K program and although the program was great, I just never really clicked with running. From the first day where we have to run a mere 60 seconds and I felt like I was going to cough up my lungs to the last time we ran before winter set in I hated every moment. But this year it seems different Ė almost like I have settled into a rhythm. I was concerned that after a winter of no running (I despise treadmills and really cold weather makes my throat close up) I would be back to starting out with 60 second intervals. But miracle of miracles, muscle memory has apparently kicked in and yesterday Megan and I ran for three 15 minute intervals and covered a total of 4.89 miles (including the 5 minute walks between). Yes, the last 15 seemed longer than the others, but at no time was I gasping and when each 15 minute block was up I felt like I could have gone farther if I had wanted to. My goal of running 60 minutes may not be as out of reach as I had previously thought. The real problem will be finding somewhere to continuously run for 60 minutes. Sure, there are trails around here but they make running so boring. My normal routes take me down some of the most exclusive private lanes on Chicagoís North Shore and I never seem to tire of looking at the multi-million dollar homes and speculating on the interiors and the owners. Iím not even sure if Iím technically supposed to be running there, but until someone calls the cops thatís where Iíll be running. There is a loop that I do that is 6.3 miles, so that may just be the right amount considering that I run about a 10 minute mile. Megan, Steve and I signed up for our first 5K of the season and I donít think this one has any post-race snacks which is good. And, if we were among the first 200 to sign up weíll each get a snazzy Mizuna technical T-shirt Ė not too shabby.

Easter will be another clusterfuck multiple-family extravaganza. Iím the original poster child for Marrying Someone From Out-of-Town. If I had just done that we could have easily come to some conclusion about whose parentís house to celebrate each holiday at. But no, I had to go and marry someone from around here so every holiday involves two gargantuan meals. Usually itís brunch with Steveís family then dinner with mine Ė each family vying to see who wins the Stuff Steve and Paula prize. Iím surprised we donít get weighed on the way in and out - ďWell they were 3.7 pounds heavier after leaving MY house.Ē ďThey were 3.8 pounds heavier after MY house, so I win.Ē Usually I just look like a heel at Steveís family celebration because I eat like a bird so I can stuff myself at my momís because truth be told, I like her cooking better. Steve, who has no restraint, pigs out at both meals and then spends the rest of the night popping Mylanta and trying not to be gassy around me. He usually fails.

Because all the holidays seem to fall on weekends this year, we were given Good Friday off of work. This is nice, because usually the first paid holiday isnít until Memorial Day and I can tell you that itís a long stretch between New Yearís Day and the end of May. Five months in fact. Because Iím a godless heathen, Iím going to spend Good Friday sleeping late, doing some marital things (boom chicka boom boom), eating a post-coital breakfast at our local greasy spoon, and heading downtown to check out the Museum of Contemporary Art and then walking most of the way home to get in some exercise. Then, perhaps a leisurely evening of catching up on the latest Netflix offering of Homicide: Life on the Streets. I know you all wish you could be me and lead such an exciting life, but itís not for everyone.

Iíll try to pop in over the (long) weekend with an update Ė perhaps post haircut and color so I can rave about the revived beautiousness that is my follicles. Hmmm. Would that be Ďis my folliclesí or Ďare my follicles?í Eh. I really donít care and unless youíre some sort of anal grammarian you wonít either. See ya.

10:54 a.m. - 2004-04-08


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