Who knew that only by eating a little bit of cookie dough, a girl could lose a couple of pounds?
I know, the miracle should be more profound than this, but...
Since August, I've been diligently training for a 5K. I could walk several miles, even at a decent clip, but forget jogging, or horrors, running even half a mile.
Then, one day, Mom and Dad ordered me a spiffy running outfit from Cabela's, thus obligating me to actually stick with the torture. That, and the jacket is so cool! It has a little strap for my headphones cord and inner pockets so keys and cell phone won't escape.
Two months into it, I was buying a sports bra and mentioned to the clerk that I liked to run. Weird, huh? I'm not someone who likes to pant for air, ignoring the inevitable shin splints. Something happened, though, blame it on endorphins, but I actually like running. It's rather like cleaning house. While I hate cleaning, I love the results. I'd hoped the weight would fall off a lot more, but it's remained a maddening constant.
In the past four months, I've not lost until just today. But, I've dropped from size 14 to a comfy 12, and can taking jogging a mile at a time for granted. I've also learned that running when it's 25F outside isn't as bad as you'd think. In fact, running (jogging, really) today when the temp is around 52F will be roasting hot compared to last week's mid 20's. Stupid shin splints, a sure sign of doing too much too soon, has kept me from running more distance more often.
Today should be fun. Fry has insisted she can run a 7 to 8 minute mile. Um hm. When it's cold, I run a 13 minute mile, when it's balmy like today, it'll probably be closer to 12. My bet is the girl can keep up for the first half, but will be hurting by the second. Still, she could surprise me and I hope she does.
On the novel front, the word count is 56,588 today. There's a lot of tension in this story, I'm having a tough time keeping the two protagonists apart physically. They're a bit too attractive to each other. A huge heap of sexual tension in a romance is a good thing, I'm betting. It's fun to write and addictive. I'd toyed with not finishing, but can't. I owe it to the characters to get them to the finish line. Yeah, sounds weird if you don't write fiction.
In knitting news... The little Goopa (baby sister) has claimed the Christmas Scarf as her own.
Mom loves her socks,
I'm hoping my mother-in-law likes her scarf. Seeing my friend, Mary's lavendar version, I'm betting she'll LOVE it. Hubby is lobbying hard for me to not felt it. He can want all he wants, but I'm still felting.
Fry would love her fingerless mits if she could find her other one. She's already lost one. The white part glows in the dark, which is cool, but not cool enough to wear to school or anything. (Yes, I'm bitter.)