Thursday, October 02, 2008

Running Update: All tapered

Hearkening back to last year when I reached the same point, I laughed out loud a little bit this morning as I cruised into the driveway from finishing up the last run of my 1/2 marathon training because...

My taper week was done.

I was all tapered out.

Tapering was finished.




I'm a six year old in the morning, is what it comes down to. I'm assuming you know this joke when I make this reference but if you don't... Anywaaaay...

I finished my last training run for this race and thus finished my week of tapering. This run,- a gloriously short and grilled-cheese-fueled 2 mile run through the neighborhood without the accompaniment of my watch or iPod - put an excellent and short lid on Taper Week which started with my Run That Doesn't Suck from last Saturday.

This is where I did NOT call it a "Fun Run" like a douche, but where I skirted convention and just ran down all the streets I always see from my standard route but never get to tour because I Must Stay On-Route.

I can be so bossy.

That was a grand little run, I should say, too. I just went wherever the hell I wanted and when I ran out of fun streets to tour (plus, was getting sweaty since the dumb sun was all OUT and everything - stupid 8am) I just ran home and went about my day like a normal person without catastrophic runs or debilitating exhaustion or inexplicable boob pain.


And then Tuesday and today I ran shortie 2 milers at what I perceived was a fast pace, but what I'm sure was more like a normal person's running pace.

Have I told you I'm slow? I am. It's fine. I get there eventually with my slow and steady wins the race pace and try not to make comparisons between how fast I'm "running" while old people with those four pronged canes are walking nearby at nearly the same pace.

Makes me self-conscious, those canes.

And now I'm actively involved in the pastime known as Psyching Thyself Out To The Point of Mild Nausea.

See, the time, she passes so quickly. And it's moments like these, when I'm mere days from staring down the barrel of a 13 mile run, that I think to myself, "Self - what the fuck were you thinking?"

And then my self says back, "Duh bitch, you were there when we hit Submit on the registration page, so don't get all weird on me."

Tomorrow I'll go to the race expo and pick up my bib and a pacing wristband (free) and then not buy any of the hokey crap that they sell like seat covers with the race emblem embroidered on the front.

Then on Saturday, I will not run at all and will instead engage in some champion sleeping in until about 7am (we suck at sleeping in here) when I will probably walk the dog and try not to think about in 24 hours I will be standing at the starting line to run 13 miles.

I'll do these mind-numbing calculations all day until I get to the point where I am sure that "24 hours from now I'll be done and eating race fries" and then I'll start to fold and refold my shorts until it's time to leave for the race.

Because. I. Am. Crazy.

Here's to hoping I don't make a shameful heap of myself in 55.5 hours.


  1. Nothing clever, nothing snarky. Just...

    Good luck, toots!

  2. race fries. Now that's a tradition I could adopt. But then I'd have to do the pre-post race fries race and, well, no I just can't. But you can....and that's amazing. You rock, chica.

  3. Perhaps I will have some fries this weekend, as well. In solidarity, you understand.

    Break a leg, Finn! Except, you know, not LITERALLY . . .

  4. Finny! I am excited for you! Good luck with it. Looking forward to reading about your race success in a few days :)


  5. To honor your awesomeness, I WON'T eat fries this weekend. I will want to, but I will refrain. Because I totally won't deserve them.

    Good luck. And be sure to post pictures of the fries, so I can feel bad about not eating them.

  6. go Finny go! I'm not a runner, but if it were me, i'd have a celebratory margarita. Maybe i'll have one for you.

  7. You'll be great! No psyching out, only psyching up!


[2013 update: You can't comment as an anonymous person anymore. Too many douchebags were leaving bullshit SPAM comments and my inbox was getting flooded, but if you're here to comment in a real way like a real person, go to it.]

Look at you commenting, that's fun.

So, here's the thing with commenting, unless you have an email address associated with your own profile, your comment will still post, but I won't have an email address with which to reply to you personally.

Sucks, right?

Anyway, to remedy this, I usually come back to my posts and post replies in the comment field with you.

But, if you ever want to email me directly to talk about pumpkins or shoes or what it's like to spend a good part of your day Swiffering - shoot me an email to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom.