I have this friend. Her name is Amanda...and I want to stab her. However, my arms are barely cooperating to write this post, let alone pick up a heavy object with force. That, and she'd probably run. And the way these legs are feeling today, that ain't happening either.
Yet, I digress. Amanda. She is amazing. Seriously, one of those supermom-types with a personality that everyone loves. Or hates. My feelings on this change depending on her method of torture for me for the week. But, again, FOCUS MELANIE. Amanda is awesome. She gets up at 5 a.m. for a morning run, comes home and gets her husband and kids off to school/work, then brings her little one to the gym every Tuesday and Thursday without fail to offer FREE circuit/Pilates workouts to innocent and unsuspecting victims. I would like to think she goes home to sprawl on the couch with a bag of Oreos, but alas, she is also taking college classes and coming up with new methods of torture.
This morning was especially rough, because not only do I have friends like Amanda, I also belong to a great little running group who meets for some run or another almost every single day. Coming off my long run on Sunday (13 miles, mind you), I apparently still had my "runner's high" going because I said I'd go. I must have made this promise before my Motrin wore off because I woke up this morning drained. DRAINED. Now I know that rest days mean REST, not bike rides. But again, back to the point. I was drained.
After taking my daughter to school I had convinced myself my bed needed me more than my running group - or Amanda - she always has tons of people to torture besides me, surely I wouldn't be missed. But my husband was home when I got back and since I was already in my running gear (yes, I am that mom at the bus stop, one step up from pajama mom, but I'll touch on that subject later), he was like, "so aren't you going running?" Thanks, dude. Why, yes. Yes. I am.
So I got there and everyone was all fresh legs and ready to get out and run. I really just wanted my bed. But I go, I'm no quitter after-all...or am I? See the benefit of being slow-mo in the back of the pack is no one really notices if you veer off and say, take the 3.6 mile loop instead of the 4.5 loop. Or if they notice, they are so far ahead of you that you can't hear what they are saying anyway, so it doesn't matter, right? Yes. I'm glad you agree. Besides, I was the only one going for some Amanda torture afterwards so I needed the extra energy.
I think she sensed my lack of enthusiasm about today's workout. I really did try. For the life of me though, I could not keep up. I'm also pretty sure she called me out a time or two about my ridiculous pained facial expressions. See, she is up there all pretty and graceful, and I'm dying in the back trying to figure out how she gets her legs to move like that. Apparently, my legs did not get the memo. Or my abs.
Lesson of the day...maybe I should find less motivating friends...
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