.18: the number of miles (number of mile?) from home we were the baby declared she and the stroller were fucking done professionally.
Of course, having just RUN two miles, which is about all I can manage with the stroller (while the baby sat on her plump, lazy ass the whole time, I might add), I didn’t have a lot left in the tank to continue to haul ass home for an emergency feeding, but I did anyway because that’s just the sort of kind and selfless mom I am. Kenzie wanted milk, AGAIN; I treated myself to a stale cup of cold coffee, or as I just started calling it as I was typing this, ghetto iced coffee. You’ll get the recipe in my forthcoming memoir.
Anyway, I’m thrilled for springtime. I’ll be honest: being cooped up inside the house all winter was like a dry fuck. Wake up at 3 or 4 or 5 a.m. and by 9:15 or so we’d read all the books and played with all the toys and I’d completely run out of ways to entertain us and we were both bored silly. Now that I can (sleep) take her for walks and jogs, we’re both much less stabby.
And I think I’m finally getting the hang of running again. My crotch and the incision on my uterus* are still achy when I finish, but my pace is creeping up and my legs are starting to feel (and look) less like jello when I run.
- I am “up to” seven miles a week;
- I can run three miles without stopping;
- If you call a 10:30 pace “running,” and if you’re me you have to;
- I’m out of the dreaded 11s, and I’ve even -briefly- seen some 9:40s and 50s on the Garmin;
- Of which I still cannot shuffle myself loose;
- I can run two miles pushing my petite baby in her ballin’ stroller;
- I can do this at just under an 11:00 pace;
- Which I think is pretty spectacular;
- I deserve a beer.
Doggie Style Pale! I don’t remember this beer being all that memorable, but this one was fantastic. Perfect amount of citrus, nice hoppy bite and a smooth finish. I only drank one, but I could easily have drank three more, and if I really put my mind to it, probably another one after that. (Side note: you know how sometimes you know you’re wasted but you still just want one more beer? And then you open one and take like, four sips of it and pass out and when you wake up there’s a full beer on the coffee table and you hate yourself? That’s always when I starting thinking about going back to the Meetings, but then I remember those people are lunatics and I go on with my life.)
Anyway, I am attending a stroller workout class tomorrow. I KNOW. But I’m going to give it a chance because I want more mom friends. I don’t expect them all to be heavy metal beer drinking moms, but I might get lucky.
*I will be just as glad as you when the day comes that I can stop talking about my uterus on my blog. Until then, SUCK IT UP.
And to make up for all the above cuteness and fuckery: