Ran 20 miles this morning. By myself. Turned into the lunatic who talks to themselves around mile 18, muttering, "Two more miles. I can do two more miles. C'mon, hang in there. One mile and 8/10's left. Don't quit." People gave me a wide berth.
Driving home, Blair asked why I hadn't written anything for publication on my running. "You went from being a non-runner to qualifying for Boston in three and a half years," he said. "That would be inspirational to someone."
"Oh, sweetie," I said, love pouring out from my heart.
"Plus, it seems like you should be able to make some money on that," he finished.
Aaaaaand, the moment is over.
Anyway, we came up with a few potential book titles for my as yet unwritten memoir on running:
- Obsessed (This was Blair's contribution)
- I Lapped His Ass (my contribution)
- How Running (Nearly) Destroyed My Marriage
- Finding God at Mile 19
- I'm Too Old For This Sh**
- Greetings From Planet Badass (or is that "Dumbass?)
- Head Up, Breath, Baby Steps: How Running Imitates Life
Blair also suggested something like, "A Woman's Journey" which I vetoed for sounding too much like a tampon commercial.
I'm now on the couch, feet up, and slightly bummed because all the books I'm reading right now are non-fiction and I'm really in the mood to curl up with a good story. I'll search the house but I'm pretty sure I've read everything here with the exception of some Agatha Christie novels and I'm just not that desperate.
Let me know which title you think I should go with, or feel free to suggest one of your own. If I select your title, I'll mention you in my interviews on Oprah and The Today Show, if there's time before the commercial break.