Scary Tattoos

4 Jun

I am so soccered out.  I’m so tired of driving to practices and games.  I want to be done and just do me.  I’m selfish, I know.    Yesterday, I had to drive an hour and 45 minutes….ONE WAY… for a soccer game.  A soccer game, may I add that Brucee’s team lost 2 to zero.  Balls!

Tonight, I had to take Brucee to practice.  Instead of being a good mom, who would sit on the sidelines to watch a boring practice, I practically dropped-kicked my 14 year old son out of the car (I did stop completely…I think) and drove to my favorite running store.  I talked about tattoos and running with a salesguy who had no hair but a very long, ZZ Top beard.  Good times.

They have a great clearance rack.  I grabbed a pair of shoes (Brooks Green Silence), strictly based on color and proceeded to walk around the store holding them for about an hour.  My new friend had me get on the treadmill for ten minutes so he could evaluate my running.  He told me my right ankle pronated (?!)  a little.  I also am too rigid with my arms (90 degree angle at all times).  I guess I need to loosen my arms up a little bit.  The arm thing made sense because I constantly have to extend my arms to get the feeling back in them during my run.  I grabbed a cute Lole bathing suit (ONLY in the Pixel Clay print), tried it on, hated what I looked like in it and then returned it to the rack.  After an overwhelming feeling of guilt, I put the shoes back too and left the store.  I didn’t buy a damn thing.  They said it was okay because there’s no pressure (not on commission).  I just love bumming around that store.  .

I dreaded getting on that treadmill because I had just finished running almost 9 miles a few hours before.  Can you say stiff?  I can (but I didn’t tell him – I didn’t want to look like a wimp).   The last thing I wanted to do was run but he was so gung ho about me trying the shoes I picked out.  Shoot.  I picked them out because I like the color (like I do all of my shoes).  Who cares what they felt like?  Not me.

Saturday, I totally got rained on (in Who Girl’s white Asics (oops)).  I ran 7.72 miles with average mile/minute of 8:09.  That was speedy for me.  I just wanted to get home so I didn’t wreck her shoes.

I blew off running yesterday (too tired from driving) but convinced myself it was okay because I shouldn’t run every day.  It’s bad for me legs.

Today, I ran 8.76 miles with an average mile/minute of 8:31.  At mile 2, I almost ended my life.  It’s too long of an explanation to type out but trust me, I was being super stupid.  Mick drove by right as it happened.  I don’t know if he noticed my stupidness or not.  Serious, I should have been road kill.

Scary tattoos.  Yes.  I’ll explain.  It’s horsefly season.

I hate those little suckers.  They cause the biggest, itchiest welts.  They’re sneaky little blood suckers.  Anyways, when I run and I get really paranoid (near our pond and the neighbor’s horses, for example) I keep seeing what I think is a fly.  I’m running down the road smacking myself.  It’s sometimes a fly but most of the time; it’s one of my tattoos.  Silly, I know.  I’m just plain silly.

Tomorrow I get to go to Lindsay so she can color my hair.  I’m thinking, red, copper and purple again.  It’s just too hard to pick one color.  I’m not telling Mick.  He doesn’t care.  He’s used to me doing weird things.  I’m sure he expects me to walk about our bedroom, one of these days, wearing my underwear over my pants.  I don’t think I’d do something like that.  I mean, I might if it were trendy.


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