Ok, not really, but it pretty much sums it up! I did my "track work" (can you tell I like saying this? makes me feel all kinds of official! :-), stretched, did 12 minutes on the elliptical machine, which from now on will be referred to as "evil torture device," stretched again, walked for five minutes on the treadmill, and then ran one mile....yep, exactly one mile, at a nine-minute-mile pace. My knee hurt quite a bit during the last two minutes, but this is undoubtedly progress as Claire can attest to....she's seen me limping along, running in thirty-second spurts, cussing, and trying not to cry all at the same time....not my finest moment, but someday I'll tell Shelby these stories and she'll think her mom is (was?) cool and tough at least for a day....right?
I won't mention the fact that a kid 15 years younger than my youthful and repetitive 29 (stop laughing....) was running at a 7.8 pace on the treadmill beside me....and when he was done he'd gone about five miles. Yes, I looked, yes, I wanted to run that fast, and no, I actually didn't know the treadmill pace went that high....
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