So my weekend sucked. I'm still pissed off at the Universe but the Universe seems to not be taking any calls right now so onward.
(Although...Kris and I have decided that we really need to start a greeting card line with various "This fucking sucks" messages, because those would have come in handy this weekend)
Hey, did you hear? Coleen did the 3-Day in Philly this past weekend! Go Coll! The emails we've been exchanging about it this past week are getting me all excited again. Not that you would be able to tell, what with my lack of buying important necessities like...band-aids. Tons of band-aids. And Second Skin. Did I ever describe Second Skin to you? No? It's this crazy ass gel that's pressed into sheets and contains something like 99% pure water. And they package it with this film on it to keep it from drying out and every time you go to use some the clear film never ever wants to come off, which is quite frankly both disgusting because it feels like you are handling cold boogers and frustrating because all you want is to be able to put that soothing goodness on your blisters RIGHT NOW but you can't because the damn film won't come off.
I also need to go buy a compact yet really warm blanket to pack for sleeping under. No sleeping bag for me this year, because I want to avoid the "worrying I might get stuck like a sausage" thing I had going on last year. With a giant blanket and a good pillow, we'll sleep juuuust fine, as we proved last year upon collapsing upon our Glorious Air Mattresses of Love.
This year we also have The Plan. The Plan calls for us sleeping in the clothes we're going to wear the next day so as to be able to roll out of bed and need only to pull on our shoes (and in my case, my bra, because I do not sleep in underwire, thankyouverymuch) before stumbling through the pre-dawn darkness to have breakfast. This will allow us to be on the route when it opens at 6:30 which in turn will allow us to be finished walking super early so we can actually enjoy our time at camp.
The Plan also involves much, MUCH less time spent in medical tents, which seems to be a real possibility thanks to my Technological Wonder Socks and Super Fantastic Shoes, which have kept me blister free through the few long walks I managed to do this summer. Eleven and a half miles without even a tiny blister, hooray!
So this year should be easier and better and more fun. And also hillier. Have I mentioned they promised us more hills this year? Bastards. Ah well, Kris and I managed last year, we'll manage again this year. At least that's what I tell myself when it's 5:30 in the morning and I want to cut my elliptical machine time short.
The only bad thing about the walk? It's less than a week before JournalCon which means my feet will probably still be swollen which means I probably won't be able to wear my cutest shoes. But hey, whatever. I'll still be partying with my Best Internet Friends.
Speaking of my elliptical machine time, this funny thing has happened now that I've settled in at the Y. I'm finally noticing people rather than just going in and focusing solely on the pain in my quads as I force myself past the 15 minute mark. And there are some interesting people there that early in the morning. The other day, there was a man who looked at least part Native American with a long gray braid trailing down his back. He was working out very carefully, going from weight machine to weight machine without his stoic face shifting the slightest. Nothing too startling there, but what was startling was that he was working out in a T-shirt and jeans. Jeans! I got overheated just thinking about working out in jeans, not to mention the stiff restrictiveness aspect (although the jeans I bought last weekend are probably stretchy enough to be comfy working out in, come to think about it).
And then there's this older lady who keeps hitting on one specific guy who is there every dang morning. And every dang morning he brushes here off with polite chit chat of the two minute variety, and every dang morning she comes back for more. One day he's either going to smack her with a free weight or just give in and take her to dinner.
My money's on the free weight.
And since this entry wasn't quite random enough, I give you this, which is kind of awesome, except it would have been more awesome if the story was about me.
(Although...Kris and I have decided that we really need to start a greeting card line with various "This fucking sucks" messages, because those would have come in handy this weekend)
Hey, did you hear? Coleen did the 3-Day in Philly this past weekend! Go Coll! The emails we've been exchanging about it this past week are getting me all excited again. Not that you would be able to tell, what with my lack of buying important necessities like...band-aids. Tons of band-aids. And Second Skin. Did I ever describe Second Skin to you? No? It's this crazy ass gel that's pressed into sheets and contains something like 99% pure water. And they package it with this film on it to keep it from drying out and every time you go to use some the clear film never ever wants to come off, which is quite frankly both disgusting because it feels like you are handling cold boogers and frustrating because all you want is to be able to put that soothing goodness on your blisters RIGHT NOW but you can't because the damn film won't come off.
I also need to go buy a compact yet really warm blanket to pack for sleeping under. No sleeping bag for me this year, because I want to avoid the "worrying I might get stuck like a sausage" thing I had going on last year. With a giant blanket and a good pillow, we'll sleep juuuust fine, as we proved last year upon collapsing upon our Glorious Air Mattresses of Love.
This year we also have The Plan. The Plan calls for us sleeping in the clothes we're going to wear the next day so as to be able to roll out of bed and need only to pull on our shoes (and in my case, my bra, because I do not sleep in underwire, thankyouverymuch) before stumbling through the pre-dawn darkness to have breakfast. This will allow us to be on the route when it opens at 6:30 which in turn will allow us to be finished walking super early so we can actually enjoy our time at camp.
The Plan also involves much, MUCH less time spent in medical tents, which seems to be a real possibility thanks to my Technological Wonder Socks and Super Fantastic Shoes, which have kept me blister free through the few long walks I managed to do this summer. Eleven and a half miles without even a tiny blister, hooray!
So this year should be easier and better and more fun. And also hillier. Have I mentioned they promised us more hills this year? Bastards. Ah well, Kris and I managed last year, we'll manage again this year. At least that's what I tell myself when it's 5:30 in the morning and I want to cut my elliptical machine time short.
The only bad thing about the walk? It's less than a week before JournalCon which means my feet will probably still be swollen which means I probably won't be able to wear my cutest shoes. But hey, whatever. I'll still be partying with my Best Internet Friends.
Speaking of my elliptical machine time, this funny thing has happened now that I've settled in at the Y. I'm finally noticing people rather than just going in and focusing solely on the pain in my quads as I force myself past the 15 minute mark. And there are some interesting people there that early in the morning. The other day, there was a man who looked at least part Native American with a long gray braid trailing down his back. He was working out very carefully, going from weight machine to weight machine without his stoic face shifting the slightest. Nothing too startling there, but what was startling was that he was working out in a T-shirt and jeans. Jeans! I got overheated just thinking about working out in jeans, not to mention the stiff restrictiveness aspect (although the jeans I bought last weekend are probably stretchy enough to be comfy working out in, come to think about it).
And then there's this older lady who keeps hitting on one specific guy who is there every dang morning. And every dang morning he brushes here off with polite chit chat of the two minute variety, and every dang morning she comes back for more. One day he's either going to smack her with a free weight or just give in and take her to dinner.
My money's on the free weight.
And since this entry wasn't quite random enough, I give you this, which is kind of awesome, except it would have been more awesome if the story was about me.
