Pooped.

I thought I was in good shape.

Running 13 miles around a lake with 100 other runners put an end to any inflated sense of fitness I might have had. This is a good thing, really.

So I managed to meet up with this crowd a little before 7 this morning. Someone in charge made the announcement that the course was a little hilly, so we should take it slow. He wasn't kidding.

You'd think a loop around a lake would be pretty flat, but these hills were constant and unforgiving. There were more hills than not. Downhills were fun, though.

I took some Gu at mile 10. I needed it. That stuff did the trick. And of course I stopped for water every chance I got, a total of about 5 times.

I also ran with a very nice lady, KT, who teaches 4th graders how to write, went to Italy for 17 days in June with a group of girlfriends she plays soccer with, was born in 1976, and graduated from college the same year I did. We saved each other's runs today, cuz we both would have pooped out and walked at several points along the way, we confessed to each other at mile 13, which we reached at 9:30.

Knees and hips got a little sore, but the weirdest thing: my shoulders hurt more than anything. This happened last week, too. I guess they're just not used to all the movement, but dang. I'm going to ask TTT to show me some rotator cuff strengthening exercises again. She said anyone who does anything athletic for any sustained period of time ends up with a rotator cuff injury. I'm hoping to beat that stat.

Before the run I ate a Zone Perfect bar, which is exactly what I ate before the SF half marathon. It seems to work for me.

After the run this morning, I stopped at the farmer's market seeking apricots. I left with apricots, cherries, green beans and lettuce. The cherries are overripe and the apricots are slightly softer than rocks (based on the few I ate on the way home) but they're still pretty dang tasty.

Filled up on a little bacon and eggs (that's turkey bacon and egg whites, mind you) and oatmeal with raspberries once I got home. Then I had a bath, put on my white, cotton nightie, read some, and went back to bed for a good, long sleep. Now I'm happily relaxed, but shit. That kind of physical exertion has got to lead to that kind of melted-down relaxation. Especially if no endorphin highs come of it. Damn.

You know you've run hard when your pony tail is tangled just from moving around so much and the tip of it is soaked from dipping into the sweat pouring from your neck and back. Not to mention the salt crystals on your face and arms.

Despite all the hills, I didn't walk a step. As long as I'm getting better in some way every week, I'm happy.

Here's what doesn't make me happy: the place through which I booked my hotel for the marathon emailed me and said, oops, that hotel is sold-out and we're not giving you the hotel room we already charged you for. They said they will reimburse me, but I made the reservation weeks ago. It's unlikely I'll find another hotel in the city. My options now are: to beg someone to let me crash on their couch; to book a hotel in the 'burbs and take the el in; to wake up ungodly early and drive in on the morning of the race; or, hope that Sid does her magic and books a flight/airfare combo that rawks and lets me stay, too. This last option has happened twice before--to hope for a third might be pushing it. . . .

Whatever happens, I'm there. Laced up, ready to go, untangled pony tail ready for the beating.

Oh, and the reason I'm not still in bed right now is I was awakened by several piercing, children's voices emanating from the little people splashing about in the lake three houses down. Let me take a moment to express my gratitude that I do not have any children. As much as I enjoy other people's kiddies from time to time, I LOVE having my life to myself. I LOVE that I can fuck off in the middle of a Saturday and sleep for two hours because I spent the morning running around a lake. I LOVE that I do not have to spend the majority of my money and time trying to find other people to look after the little people just so I can do things like work and play. My friends with kids seem to manage these things and love each other at the same time--a phenomenon to me--but they do work their asses off ALL THE TIME just to make it happen.

Gratitude expressed. Selfishness acknowledged. Irritating little screamers down the shore forgiven. As long as they're just visiting this weekend.