Tacos, the Ideal Running Fuel

Workout: 3 miserables miles, 10:45 pace

A word to the wise: don't eat tacos and try to run immediately after, even if it's only 3 easy miles. Worst idea ever. Keeping those tacos down was almost as hard as the running, which sucked.

I really didn't want to do this run. I was pretty sore from yesterday's 4.5 miles and Sunday's new post-stress fracture distance PR (7 miles), and I generally just didn't feel like it (blame the fact that Christmas is over). But we all know that the ones you don't want to do are the most character-building or whatever bullshit, so I did it anyway. IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD. Which is the worst place ever to run except for the fact that I can leave from my front door. I decided to stay mostly on flat ground, which confined me to a 3/4 mile strip of road. Kill me.

I was actually only going to do one mile outside (because when Bailey sees me putting on running stuff I can't run without her) and come in for the last two on the treadmill. Once I got outside, though, I realized that things sucked enough already and that throwing a treadmill into the mix would mean I wasn't finishing my run. I stayed outside.

I wore my elf shoes, which pretty much erased that weird pain-that-I-guess-really-is-a-pain I've been experiencing on top of my foot. I'm assuming that wearing my tiny Yaktrax prevents my foot from spreading out as far as it usually does. The elf shoes are pretty baggy and allow my foot to do whatever it feels like. I'd like to wear them more, but as today showed, they're slippery as hell on snow. I'll have to see if I can find any Yaktrax that will fit them.

O Yaktrax, where art thou?

My dumb paces.

The less dumb view from my dad's office.

Tomorrow is a much-welcomed rest day, and I'm planning to rest the shit out of it. Getting over Christmas is hard.