Great Race, But I Still Hate 5K's

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Today I ran a 5K as part of the Human Race. 

The optimist sees... I set a PR! New time of 22:03. 

The pessimist sees... I walked for about 5 seconds coming up the last hill. If I hadn't, I would have bagged my first ever 21-something 5k time.

 

The optimist thinks... 5k's are a great way to build speed and spend time with friends. 

The pessimist thinks... 5k's *%@#ing HURT.

 

The optimist says... The only way to improve at 5k's is to run more of them!

The pessimist says... Wake me up for the next marathon...

 

So am I an optimist or pessimist? I'll quote the little girl I spoke with in Starbucks this last Halloween. She was dressed as a witch and I asked her if she was a good witch, or a bad witch. She cocked her head, thought about it, then answered, "I'm a little bit of both." 

Cheers,

Dena

Switching Up the Workouts

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I am a creature of habit. I eat at the same restaurants, watch the same programs, drive the same route, and the first thing I do every morning when I get out of bed is brush my teeth. NO EXCEPTIONS. 

The creature of habit thing serves me well in exercise, at least with marathon training. I've used the exact same program, no deviations, to train for my last 3 marathons, and I've PR'd in each of them. Lately, however, I've felt the need to mix up my routine. 

Why? For one thing, I'm bored. My routine for over two years now has been run 3 days, bike 2 days, weight train 2 days. If I get a wild hair, I throw in a day of yoga. More than that, the days I do each of these exercises has been set in stone. Run T-TH-Sat, bike MW, weight train MW. Can you say "rigid," boys and girls?

So, thanks to marathon training being over (until July) and the magic of groupons, I'm branching out.

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Rats With Fur: The Rabid Squirrel Diaries Return

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They're back. The freaking lethal, rabid, sent-from-hell-to torture-me squirrels are back. And they are eating our house. 

You think I'm kidding? Take a look at this:

Check out the gnawed wood in the corner and under the eave

This is outside where the squirrel sat and mocked meSometimes I sit in our upstairs window seat and comb Lucy or Olivia. More and more often when I do, I hear the rattle of saber-toothed claws scratching at the walls. Pounding used to scare the squirrels away but no more. Apparently, they've evolved. I pounded on the wall the other day and a squirrel moseyed--swear to God, moseyed--out from under the eaves and sat directly in front of me in the window. He was all attitude and did everything but stick out his tongue at me. 

Bad squirrels! Bad, BAD squirrels!Blair and I were outside yesterday and it was the first time I'd really looked at the damage the squirrels had done. 

"Oh my God!" I said. "What can we do to stop them?"

"BB gun," said Blair. (He was kidding. I think.) 

"We're not shooting squirrels," I said. 

"We need to kill a couple of them, at least," said Blair. "Show them who's boss." 

"So what, we're going to have little squirrel heads on stakes in the yard as a warning?" I asked. "Might there be a Plan B?"

There isn't. We're apparently going to sit at home, like the yuppie wimps we are, and let rodents with fur gnaw our house down to the bare bones. 

Does anyone have any suggestions for ridding ourselves of revenge-seeking squirrels? Anything that doesn't involve a BB gun? (Although I'm warming up to the idea of stakes.) 

Cheers,

Dena