For Christmas Joe gave me five one-hour sessions with a personal trainer. He wanted to give me more but since I’ve never really had one he wasn’t sure how I would like it. I’ve had two sessions with her so far, and she rocks. She’s been helping me with exercises to improve my upper and lower body strength as well as my core, and ways to improve my running form. I might just have to go over my five sessions…
On Sunday I ran my first 15K race, a lovely route that went through some wooded neighborhood streets and a beautiful park in Richmond. I’ve been training for it, of course; I was nervous about being able to run 9+ miles, even after running eight the previous weekend. My trainer gave me a wonderful piece of advice: Don’t feel like you have to run the whole thing. If you have to walk some, that’s OK. Just finish. I think knowing that it was all right to slow down and walk gave me the strength to keep on running. And I did walk a little bit, especially toward the end, but I finished strong. Near the back, but strong nonetheless.
There were people taking photos of the runners along the route; here I am at Mile 3.
Looking good, huh?
Well, this was Mile 7.
Yeah. I was so sore for the rest of the day that I could barely walk.
When I emailed my trainer with my results, she excitedly told me that I should have no problem finishing a half marathon in two and a half hours–which for a beginner is a great result. (After running 9.3 miles I was thinking there was no way I could ever do 13…but maybe…) If and when I sign up for a half, I’ll let you know.
It snowed on Tuesday, so no one has been to school this week. On Wednesday I had planned to attend the March for Life, but decided to stay home because a) roads were icy, b). they were calling for below-zero wind chills, and c). all the boys were home. I’ve been mostly puttering around the house this week–catching up on my thank-you notes from Christmas, putting away my Christmas plates and mugs, doing laundry, and watching episodes of Sherlock one after the other. Tuesday I taught the boys how to make my mother-in-law’s homemade pasta sauce, and Joe has been eternally grateful–we had lasagna Tuesday night and fettucini last night. And there is still some sauce left!
The boys haven’t been completely idle; even though there have been plenty of video games played and Doctor Who‘s watched, they have done some cleaning and organizing and driveway shoveling and sledding. They’ve already canceled school for Larry and Curly tomorrow (Seriously, we had three inches of snow!!) and they’ll be doing chores. Whether Moe and I are at home or at school remains to be seen…
Speaking of Sherlock, did you see that Season 3 premiere on Sunday night? I was afraid I would fall asleep like I usually do when I try to watch anything on that late, but I stayed awake for that one! Recently Larry convinced the rest of us that we would love the show, and we watched the first two seasons on Netflix. Since then we’ve been counting down the days until Season 3. I just wish there were more than three episodes to a season, and must they make us wait two years between them?
Last week I ran across this article about Sherlock and detective stories in general, and it made me realize that perhaps what I find endearing about the character of Sherlock Holmes (on the show, at least; it’s been years since I’ve read any of the books) is the fact that despite being somewhat of an arrogant jerk who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself and the thrill he gets from solving complex murder mysteries, he does in fact have a heart. His friend John Watson and a handful of other close associates recognize this, and stick by him even when he’s not exactly pleasant to be around. (Kind of like Oscar the Grouch on Sesame Street, come to think of it. Abrasive and often downright rude–but his friends love him anyway.) When he’s caught up in a puzzle–or when he’s bored, or really wants a cigarette–he tends to say and do things without any thought about how it might affect someone else. He has no clue that a remark to a female friend that she has put on a few pounds might actually hurt her feelings. (Not to mention that if you fake your own death and disappear for two years, your friends might be sad and miss you.) But on the few occasions when he does realize that his words or actions have not been stellar, he feels bad and awkwardly tries to make amends. Once in Season Two, after a spectacular blowup at Watson, he sheepishly brings him a cup of coffee, much to John’s surprise and amusement.
Do you know what I find particularly annoying, though? The way Sherlock habitually turns the waterworks on and off to suit his own agenda. If Sherlock Holmes must shed tears (must he?) at least let them be genuine. And that last episode? (ATTENTION: SPOILER ALERT!! If you haven’t seen “The Empty Hearse,” SKIP TO #7!!!) When Sherlock and Watson are in that subway car trying desperately to disarm the nuclear bomb that’s about to go off any second, and Sherlock is all like, “I can’t, I don’t know how, it’s too complicated, oh boo hoo, I’m sorry I got you into this, blah blah blah…” and suddenly it’s “Ha ha, I fooled you, I flipped the on/off switch, you should have seen the look on your face when you thought you were about to be blown to bits, HAHAHAHA!!!!”
If I could have reached through my television and choked him, I would have.
If, like me, you missed the March for Life, here is a link from the official March for Life website to all kinds of photos and tweets and more links about the March; and here’s one that the head of the Woodbridge chapter of Life Runners sent out to all its members. And if you were there, AWESOME, God bless you! (And I’m jealous.)
Have a great weekend, and be sure to visit Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes!