Twenty-eight years and two days ago a beautiful thing happened. Yours truly was born! Two days ago I celebrated my birth with a 10 mile run. It was not as beautiful.
By "it" I mean both the run and my feet. I nearly had a mental breakdown at about mile 7.5. I was tired, facing yet another hill and my feet were burning! By the time I reached the top I wanted to cry. Literally.
Side note - I don't know what the deal is. I've never had issues with blisters or calluses before (I'm actually not entirely sure which one I have). My shoes aren't new. And the new, non-cotton, running socks I bought in an attempt to remedy my funky feet were of ZERO help. Tips anyone? I'm all ears.
By the time I reached mile 8, I'd had enough. All I wanted to do was stop, flop onto my stomach and kick and scream and cry like a two-year-old. I mean, I was mad! Instead, I acted like the twenty-eight-year-old that I was an told myself to, "Suck it up!" As it turned out, anger was just what I needed to power up THE NEXT hill. And my desire to get that freakin' run over with got me through the last mile or so.
The results - sore calves, a sore right hip and a super sore...shoulder? Your guess is as good as mine. The good news - there's nothing better than a little yoga and a bloggy rest day to recover.
Since my birthday run wasn't the most fabulous, I figured I'd give P's a try! (Don't let her fool you - she's anything but average!)
And since you probably don't want to see a picture of my feet, how about a couple from my birthday dinner last Saturday night?