The picture is Hubby getting ready to board the bus for Hopkinton last April. The amazing thing about this picture and that particular Boston Marathon: Hubby had shingles. Bad. And he ran a freaking marathon. And finished with his second best Boston time ever. He is an animal.
Confessional: The weather here has sucked all week which equates to no outdoor running. The other thing that sucks is me on a treadmill. On Monday before the weather turned, I logged one quality three-mile run(36 degrees and sunny). The rest of the week included two pathetic attempts at treadmill running. Score: Treadmill, 2. Me, 0.
It might be a long winter.
3 comments:
Don't be afraid to fight dirty with the treadmill. At 2 to 0, you're down, but not out. If you're Irish, like that banner over your head in the picture on your blog implies, then you are, I know, My Hibernian Sister, familiar with the kidney punch, the knee to the groin and other dirty tricks. It's What We Irish Are (In)Famous For.
Plus, when you find yourself staring at a recalcitrant treadmill, ask yourself WWGD: "What Would Gladys Do?" I think you know the answer. It would involve some bashing and smashing, I'd bet.
Before you know it ... Treadmill: 2, You: 10,000 - which could happen if you cheat at keeping score, too. Which I heartily recommend.
Your husband is beyond an animal if he ran a marathon with shingles. I bet he's Irish.
Ok, ok. Thanks for the pep talk. I'll cheat next week.
Hubby *thinks* he's Irish, but I like to tell him he's really a Brit, unlike MOI...who's Hibernian ancestry can be traced back to the potato famine. And I never really understood the use of "Hibernian"...why use a Roman word anyway?
Damn I hate grammatical errors. WHOSE.
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