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Sorry I took such a long break.

Much like Gloria Estefan’s rhythm, the seminar papers are gonna get you.

I have three due in the next three weeks and a presentation.

I also have to grade 60 college student papers.

Jesus, help me.

Anyway, another thing they don’t tell you about running long distances is that around mile 8 or 9 you will realize that you’ve been running for a long time. Once you realize that you’ve been running for over an hour, one of two things will happen: 1) you will want to fall down and die because you realize you’ve been running for OVER AN HOUR or 2) you’ll realize how freakin’ bored you are and start reading the signs the spectators bring with them.

(A brief word to race spectators: while I appreciate your enthusiasm and signage, please bring a book, a gameboy, or Sudoku with you when you go to watch a race. Some of you looked so bored I could have used you to build a sundeck.)

My sister left me around mile 7, so by the time I reached mile 8, my “woo hoo! You’re running the Disney Princess Half Marathon” playlist had lost all novelty and I was freakin’ bored. English major that I am, I decided to find reading material. Since it is neither feasible, nor comfortable for one to carry a paperback copy of Beloved in one’s shoe during a race, I had to read the signs.

(And then I sang the Ace of Bass song “I saw the sign” in my head for the next 2 miles.)

Some people wrote very encouraging signs. For example: GO ALLY! YOU CAN DO IT!



And others were just a bit mean: “DO YOUR FEET HURT?”


I’ve been running for over an hour.

My entire being hurts.

There’s something you guys should know about me: I love to run, but I hate to run.

I love getting up at 7am when it’s still (relatively) cold outside (I live in West Palm. Our winter is three days long. It’s never cold.) and running 6 miles.

However, I also hate getting up at 7am when it’s still cold outside and running 6 miles.

Running and I are in an abusive relationship.

The more it hurts me the more I love it so.

I have the same relationship with tiramisu.

The more I eat it the better I feel, but the more I eat it the worse I feel.

That’s because tiramisu has espresso in it and I have an anxiety disorder.

This means that when I eat any kind of stimulant, like caffeine, I shake like a chihuahua.

Running calms me down, which is why I love it. When I run I don’t think about anything but the mile and breathing…and if I run more than six miles, avoiding that dog that lives about 7 miles from my house.

But we’ve talked about that dog.

And about that Cinderella sign… seriously, guy? If you knew anything about female runners you would know that we won’t give you a second glance unless you’re passing us.

I could never marry a man that couldn’t outrun me.

 I guess that means I’m marrying one of those pixies.

You know I’m not a terribly slow runner.

Why did I get passed by so many men in tights?